


Inked On My Skin, Etched In My Heart

by zaynsuniverse



Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Difficult Decisions, Heavy Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Roommates, Self-Reflection, established zarry since sixteen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-13 17:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynsuniverse/pseuds/zaynsuniverse
Summary: “I believe in it. I’m happy with my boyfriend. I feel it everyday, that he’s the one for me. But this initial, it determines my future. He’s not the one.” Harry says confidently.“And that’s why I hate the soulmates tattoos.” Shawn rolls his eyes and Harry concludes that isn’t a good look on him because Shawn is naturally nice and attractive but he looks so aggressive with that expression and Harry just wants to slap (maybe kiss) it off his face. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. Shouldn’t feel so happy but know you can’t have it in the long run. People deserve to cherish what they have while it’s there. But here, these signs are telling us to only expect what’s permeant on our skin. It’s like we’re throwing our lives away for this.”Harry knows he’s got a point, but he’s still holding onto the inevitable, that one day he’ll find his soulmate.☾Basically... Harry is in too deep believing in soulmates and loves Zayn too much to let him go. (Sharry roommates to friends with benefits to soulmates, with Zarry filling in the spaces pretty much everywhere.)





	Inked On My Skin, Etched In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Lots, loads of Z+H in the beginning and ending. S+H antics are more towards the middle, and in part two. I want a surprise endgame for readers, so message me if you must know.
> 
> twitter & tumblr @ zar0ld ♡

 

Lugging all of his suitcases into his car, he hears his mom from behind him speaking in a delicate tone, “You know you don’t have to leave so soon.” 

“Already packed, mum. It’s closer to campus for me to walk there anyways.” Harry says. He turns around and sees her wiping her nonexistent tears. He’d tease her and laugh for being dramatic but he understands the attachment mothers feel with their children. So he hugs her tight once more before leaving into his car and turning on the directions.

 

♡

  

Harry never really met the guy in person, both of them having awful schedules to have a walk through or background check on each other. Shawn, the lister, said it was ideal because they won’t be home around the same time so it could be appropriate because Shawn isn’t too much of the type to be very social. Harry thinks in contrast; he loves to interact.

They did have a video chat before Harry confirmed his status to become a roommate. It’s a loft-like interior, where there are vast windows and the walls are more like concrete than plaster. Shawn’s designs are mixed with cool and warm, dark grey and yellow. Harry likes it but he thinks his own bedroom could be more colorful and if Shawn lets him, he’s like to get a blue chevron rug in the living room to cover the dark grey wood (he thinks it would complement the yellow pillows).

Shawn isn’t that bad of a person either. Harry could tolerate him just as much as he can with the bland apartment design. Harry learns that he’s a photographer while working at a sea food restaurant. He’s been in that apartment since he graduated high school, making that two years. Harry’s on his first so he thinks that this’ll be a good scout for any questions about his own education or roadmap.

Standing in front of the large metal door — it’s probably bullet proof, Harry thinks — he tries to regain any little memory about where Shawn had said the spare key was hidden. It hits him when he drops his basket of valuables by sweaty palms. Right under the welcome mat, of course.

“Home sweet home.” Harry murmurs when he’s unlocking the door and shouldering it open. He rolls in his two suitcases following and grins to himself to see that Shawn left the curtains open as requested (because Harry wanted a really good first impression with the city view and sun rays casting in).

Harry visits his bedroom first without his belongings, somewhere on the left side of the living room, first door to the right; which is also a shared wall with the kitchen so he doesn’t know how to feel about that because Shawn says he sometimes comes home as late as two in the morning because office hours for his job.

He makes a mental blueprint for his furniture, being just a bed and a desk, and then settled in by putting his clothes in the closet and well, that’s all because he only has his clothes and a few nicknacks.

Shawn insisted that he would help, but Harry already has his boyfriend catering to him tomorrow to bring his bulkier furniture.

In the kitchen, Harry doesn’t recall whether Shawn said they could share and groceries or not. So he settles with looking for nearby supermarkets because he wants to make dinner for him and Shawn. Apparently today Shawn should be home by six and Harry is ready and anxious to meet him, with a welcoming meal of three layered cheese lasagna. 

Three blocks away, appropriate for walking distance, he finds a shop that sells all the typical items that belong in the kitchen. It’s nothing extreme, too in-depth with variety and specifics; just the basics. So he buys spaghetti sauce, the right thin sheet pasta, and different cheeses that follow the recipe he found online a couple months ago.

It’s quite heavy to carry with two bags on either sides draping on his shoulder but he gets side track while admiring the downtown scenery so he forgets about the heavy weight. The sky scraper makes shadows through his path of puddles on the cement. Leaves are greener than ever while people have distant expressions on their faces, walking in bland colored trench coats. Harry feels only a little different in this environment as he’s easily happy, while typically loving to sport a variety of colors. But he remembers that this is downtown near business buildings so maybe he gets that a little. Hopefully to the other end of his apartment, in the direction of the school, is more lively.

 

♡

 

Harry meets one neighbor along the way. A brunette wearing a striped long sleeve offers to carry one bag saying _it’s no problem I’m just holding the weekly ads anyways._ His name is Niall and Harry is fond of his laugh that he initiated because Harry just had to trip on his way out of the elevator. Niall’s loft is a few doors down and he claims that he’s always free to get a pint and show Harry around the campus if needed. Harry did mention he’s been here before, but would take an offer on being welcomed around the streets of downtown (not to the drinking part, of course).

Simmering the noodles start up Harry’s cooking session. He follows up by adding spices and herbs to his paste. Waiting for the noodles to work itself slightly cooked, he turns on the television and finds a radio app — impressed that Shawn’s got a smart television. Harry would ask how much does he make for a living in his early twenties but it’s too soon to pry. Hell just remain silent and impressed with the gorgeous top loft of the building and all his stainless steel kitchen gadgets. Even the toaster, which he plans to use for garlic bread.

Setting the homemade lasagna into the oven, he grabs his laptop and takes a seat at the dining table, even remembering which seat that Shawn prefers to sit at. (Yes, Harry did ask such a peculiar question that went something like, “I know someone who has a certain seat they need to sit at. Do you have one?” Shawn said he didn’t. But he had a preference and it was something Harry decided that he could work with.) He sits at the seat adjacent to the window, leaving the seat that faces the television unoccupied.

There’s only one problem with Harry’s plan with his laptop. He doesn’t have access to the internet so he can’t look up cheap furniture for his bedroom. He plans to purchase a bookshelf or maybe a lounging chair. But hell have to note this for another time when he gets the chance to ask Shawn.

He’s sort of afraid to text Shawn because he doesn’t know where they stand yet when it comes to contacting each other. So far, he just knows that it should only be for emergencies.

On behalf of Shawn talking about how their schedule is good — being apart and all — he thinks that Shawn isn’t looking for a friendship, only remaining roommates.

Though, this is Harry’s first roommate so he would love to have a full ride — wants to be friends. He’s taking baby steps with the dinner, but also fears that it’s too much of an approach. Shawn seemed awfully nice through the call, and had a lovely listing that seemed very respectful. But he wouldn’t know until after they meet in real life, which, should be in thirty minutes.

His timer goes off and he startles a bit, not used to the silence since he’s never really been alone even at the home that just he and his immediate family shared. He feels bad that he’s leaving his mum, but decided that he needs to grow up and wants to conserve on gas so, this is the best thing for him. He wants to manage his own bills, make friends around the neighborhood — people who he hasn’t grown up with. 

Harry considered on living with his boyfriend, but it isn’t the most convenient, knowing that he’s got a daughter of his own (he wouldn’t be ready to take on that responsibly even if they’ve been together for basically two years). Plus, Zayn doesn’t have any trace of Harry’s initials him, they aren’t meant to be. He thinks being with Zayn is a good passing time, loves him dearly, but knows that one day it’ll come to an end so living with him... might not be the most ideal situation. 

Rubbing at his wrist, he thinks this is _it_. This _is_ where it’ll be. Most people have it in obvious places. Zayn’s is on his shoulder — embedded in Harry’s head due to countless times his sunk his teeth _right there_. His mum’s is on her ring finger, covered by her wedding ring from his stepfather. As for Harry, he wishes it was evident because he wants his soulmate to see it, instantly. But he’s got a few more weeks until it’s revealed.

Harry plans to continue his relationship despite the initials because there’s no need for he and Zayn to end things. He knows that Zayn’s say _LT_ , and he doesn’t mind. They both think it’s good for them for now, to keep dating. Either one will find their soulmate eventually and they’ll both let go easy, they promised each other.

“Oh, something smells good.” The voice comes after the squeak of the large door. Harry giggles at it because of the highness and the accent (well, it’s an accent to Harry because he’s only been in California for a few years and has yet to meet nobody besides Zayn and Niall with a sound like his own).

Harry scatters up right away and welcomes Shawn with a wave, “Hi, Shawn! I’m Harry. I hope you don’t mind.” He points at the kitchen and boxes in the little recycling to suggest what meal he’s prepared.

“Oh great, thank you. Nice to meet you. Was going to just microwave something but, yeah thank you.” Shawn pats him on the back and Harry immediately thinks, what a heavy hand because Shawn’s hand is massive and nearly covers his whole right shoulder blade.

When Harry doesn’t speak, Shawn goes on while he pours of water from the sink, “So did you give yourself a little tour yet?”

“I only went into my room. And used the TV,” Harry says, pointing. “It didn’t feel right to snoop the bathroom or pantry until you got here. Didn’t know that water was good to drink. I thought you just didn’t drink water so I got a gallon.”

“Sweet. I’ll show you round. And yeah, drink from the sink, it’s filtered.” Shawn offers movies and books from the living room, saying he’s able to access any of them as long as he puts it back at the same spot. They’ve got to share a bathroom and Shawn has already reserved one drawer and the lower shelf of the medicine cabinet for him. He also announces that its best they buy their own laundry soap just as hygiene soap because Shawn washes his laundry a ton and it wouldn’t be fair to do a monthly type of thing. As for the kitchen — Harry’s been waiting for that lecture — Shawn’s barely home to have any real home made cooking so it’s mainly frozen produced food and bread, so Harry can shop for his own things and is free to microwave whatever he wants (as long as he notes Shawn’s favorite nuggets and burritos to buy every once in a while).

Shawn even shows him his own bedroom which Harry didn’t expect would be that soon. It’s very artsy with music notes and forest tree frames, a cozy rug that gives Harry an idea to buy one of his own. “So, your bedroom’s vent doesn’t work. It’s okay to ask me for my plug in heater or something. Which is in my closet. Just tell me like whenever you see me. Which is unlikely, so do you want it now?" 

Harry takes the heater and Shawn does show him the heating and cooling system in the hallway which controls the whole house and their bedrooms — but that doesn’t matter for Harry anyways since, yeah, it doesn’t work for him. It feels a bit different to be holding a heater because whenever he’s desperately cold, he’s just call Zayn and he’d be there in a flash, ready to just hold Harry.

He doubts that Shawn will allow Zayn to come over. He’ll at least wait a few weeks and not so soon to be inviting guests already. It isn’t his home after all, not yet.

“I also have this heating blanket. You plug it in and it heats. My — my friend got it for me for Christmas.” Harry excludes the boyfriend part because not only is he unsure about guests, he doesn’t know where Shawn stands with Harry’s sexuality. He doesn’t appear to be a homophobe, but Harry isn’t taking any risks because he needs to live here, he loves it already and does like Shawn’s niceness. He also really hopes Shawn is open because Shawn’s very attractive, and Harry thinks it’s a shame. But he’d at least like to swoon over a straight man who’s accepting.

Shawn gives him a weird look. And Harry’s can’t tell if it’s because of the heating blanket story or whether he’s been staring at Shawn for too long. He thinks the latter and starts skipping to the kitchen.

“I bought mittens because I didn’t know if — yeah. I like to bake. It’s necessary.” Harry takes out the tray, the aroma traveling through the open kitchen, and placing it onto a cooling rack, that he did snoop a bit for in the lower cabinets.

They sit together on the couch, and eat. Tastebuds catching the savory flavor of red, cheesy sauce. Shawn sending him dozens of compliments, offering good places to study or to drink during the week — though Harry is illegal in America so that’s useless, and he’s pretty sure Shawn is too — and the best times to see the sunset or sunrise through _their_ windows.

 

♡

 

Harry’s impatient and he doesn’t feel right going to Zayn’s house, knowing his mother is home on Friday’s. So he begs that Zayn leaves his daughter home and caters to him instead. It’s terrible, awful that Harry asks for Zayn to get his mother to babysit (she never minds anyways so it makes Harry less guilty), but Harry needs him.

“When do I get to meet him?” Zayn asks and presses up against Harry, chest to chest, the second they close the loft door.

“He’s never home. I haven’t even seen him all week.” It has been a week, a quiet week, with just Harry studying on the black couches and watching Food Network with baking competitions.

Harry doesn’t really want to talk about someone who’s basically a stranger to him, he’d rather relish in the mood, sharing words with someone he loves. Because the blinds are raised high and the curtains are pulled to the side, it’s a lovely view of city lamp posts twinkling and the sun setting behind the skyscrapers. But at the same time, he doesn’t have time for talking. He wants to be fucked right against one of those windows.

And this is bad, he knows. It’s awful for him to do such a thing, in a place that isn’t even his own. But he can’t help but want it bad when Zayn’s already tugging at the hem of Harry’s shirt with one hand, the other one playing with the zipper of his jeans.

They get undressed faster than Harry expects and Zayn keeps prodding Harry _bedroom, where’s the bedroom?_ But Harry can’t find himself to respond, too endeared with missing the way Zayn’s skin tastes in between his lips.

Zayn eventually has to grab Harry’s wrists and put them behind his back, “Hear what I asked, Harry?”

“Didn’t answer because I don’t want it in there.” Harry pants out, cock thickening beneath his right jeans at the way he feels Zayn’s nails digging into his skin.

“Where then?”

Harry walks them backwards, until he feels his fingers touch the glass and his back hitting the cold surface. Harry looks through his eye lashes and sees Zayn with the widest grin, one he hasn’t seen in a while because it’s been ages since they’ve been intimate like this. “You’re a slag, Harry. I love you so much.”

“Fuck me here, please.” Harry whines and he wishes Shawn doesn’t have any cameras installed because if so, he doesn’t care about the consequences; rather wishing to get the footage and keep it forever because Zayn’s hot, and Zayn’s his; and when his digits are in with Harry’s cheek pressed against the window, he thinks he could black out. So, he really needs a video of all of this because he can’t concentrate right now.

It’s the best and worst thing Harry experiences. He feels himself being manhandled, body shivering against the glass, feeling Zayn pound him in a movement he’d always so used to, though it feels overwhelming every time. Zayn also manages to kiss his spine and his shoulders, even get his fingertips dancing against Harry’s sides. But he hates it because he wants his hands all over Zayn and can’t have that because they stick to the window and he can’t seem to move them anywhere else. If he tries, Zayn doesn’t let him. He pinches at his hips even harder, slapping at Harry’s back when he does try to slip a hand behind to reach.

Zayn releases first seconds after his erratic movements along with a first tugging Harry’s curls. With Harry’s face away from the glass he actually gets to admire the nightlife and from the thought of others seeing their bodies against the transparent surface, he gets off to that.

Harry sees streaks of his come against the window, but the sight is gone when Zayn’s lifting him over his shoulders and planting him securely on the bed. “Clean you up real quick. And don’t worry about outside. I’ve got it." 

Zayn sticks to his word. But Harry sees his silhouette jumping into his jeans, so Harry gets a little confused. Zayn never leaves right away after his caring ways.

“Leaving so soon?” Harry sighs, pressing his palms against the bed and slouching against the headboard, “Because the heater doesn’t work in this room. I want cuddles.”

“Syl is sick.” Zayn says softly.

Harry frowns, feeling bad for all that’s happened the last hour. He crawls over to the edge of the bed and peppers Zayn’s chest with kisses before he could get his shirt over his head, “Why didn’t you tell me that before? I wouldn’t of asked.”

“You’re still a priority. She’s fine with my mum but I just wanna be there right now.” Zayn laces his fingers with Harry, “Do you want to come over instead?" 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“And? Just sleep in with me.”

“I’m actually hanging out with a neighbor tomorrow. He’s showing me around.” Harry confesses because he doesn’t keep anything from Zayn — besides the fact that he actually made a friend from this building, so he supposes he understands why Zayn raises his eyebrows and lets go of his hands. Harry has to interject, cupping at Zayn’s jaw to make Zayn look at him, “It’s nothing. Promise.”

“Sweet dreams, Haz.” Zayn kisses at Harry’s forehead before exiting the bedroom and promising to lock the front door before he leaves.

Sometimes he wishes Zayn could be his soulmate because he’s always there for him, always so sweet, and understanding. Even if Zayn can’t be there for Harry tonight, he knows he’s still got a part of him.

 

♡

 

Shawn doesn’t find out.

Not until Harry’s sweating under his collar, heart accelerating every time he looks at the window. He accidentally blares it out one morning when he manages to see Shawn for breakfast, a few days after the interaction, “I had sex with someone in the living room.”

“Alright. Um, you... I don’t care that you bring people here but, next time, keep that in your own bedroom. Okay?” Shawn shakes his head. He runs his fingers through his hair and Harry thinks he sees his soulmate tattoo on his bicep but can’t be too sure. But Shawn’s adding, “Just don’t tell me where. I don’t want to fucking know.”

“It’s nowhere you usually lounge. I promise.” Harry says, even though Shawn didn’t want any details. “It’s not on the couch. Of course not.”

“The kitchen counters?”

“I said living room.”

“Spare me. Please.” Harry hears the disgust and feels terrible. Doesn’t like the way he feels something crawling beneath his skin. Doesn’t like the look Shawn gives him, like he doesn’t know him. Yet, they never knew each other in the first place anyways.

Which is why Harry gathers a plan almost instantly. It’s like he feels the light bulb popping above his head all bright and illuminating. “Wanna go out sometime? I mean like, studying or eating somewhere. We’ve never really besides the first day.”

“Is this some apology outing because you feel bad?”

“No — I mean, yes. But I think we need to bond. I really was hoping to become friends with my future roommate. And you’re it. But if you want to stick with just people who share a roof and bills... I guess.”

“It’s fine, actually. I think it could be good for us. How’s Thursday?” Shawn mentions that he’s only turning in an assignment that day, no work, and knows that Harry has only morning classes. Harry is glad to know Shawn picked up on something, and they both make note of that little get together.

 

♡

 

“So it’s actually almost my birthday. A few days.” Harry says after they take their orders at some lounging bar and grill location in midtown. Something Niall had suggested for _mates to hang out casually._

“Nice. Happy early birthday. Any plans?”

Harry runs his finger along the the rim of his drink because it’s just what he does when he’s having small talk, “Do you know Niall? From apartment seventeen? His apartment is really big. Really larger than most he says. He wants to throw me a little party there." 

“You’ve only lived here for about a month? That close with him already? He never seems to talk to me.” Shawn says that with sort of a scoff. Harry doesn’t know him enough. He’s upset for befriending the neighbors and he hasn’t even done so yet, Harry assumes.

“Yeah. You’ll want to come yeah? Like at seven. I’ll be eighteen, so I’m spending midnight with my family so they could see my soulmates mark.” Harry absentmindedly grazes his fingers at his wrist again. He really wants it visible there.

“I don’t believe in that.” Shawn says flat.

Harry is taken aback. He never heard that statement come out of anyone’s mouths before. He finds it ridiculous. Having someone there for the long run, chosen by fate seems magical. Seems like a dream that Harry’s ready to live. He thinks he’ll be happier once he knows because he wants someone to support him through school and his career, knowing that he’ll be with them until he’s grey haired.

Sure he has Zayn, and Zayn’s so supportive. But one day it won’t last. And he just wants his soulmate soon so he doesn’t have to deal with heartbreak in the middle of his life when it’s at his peak. He wants someone now. And sadly, it isn’t Zayn. But of course, Harry loves him with all his heart. He thinks that they could stay together and forget about the soulmates, he really does. Then he remembers how he’s barely eighteen and Zayn is twenty one. There’s a whole life ahead of him to date others and hope he finds the spark, or better, finds their soulmates mark with his initials on it. 

“I believe in it. I’m happy with my boyfriend. I feel it everyday, that he’s the one for me. But this initial, it determines my future. He’s not the one.” Harry says confidently.

Shawn furrows his eyebrows, “He?”

“Is that a problem? I am not going to apologize for not mentioning that in the roommates application because it’s who I am and I will never be sorry for that. I’m sorry that you — " 

“Hey, hey. Take it easy, Harry. I’m not here to insult or judge you. I’m actually pansexual, myself.” Shawn flashes a soft smile and now Harry feels safe.

“I’ve been so nervous about that. Afraid you’d kick me out and I’d have to go back to my mum and say I couldn’t do it. Or go and live with Zayn and his daughter. Which, oh god, I can’t ever do that because I know I’m not a constant in her life.” Harry rambles out, his breath heaving with a large content sigh.

“And that’s why I hate the soulmates tattoos.” Shawn rolls his eyes and Harry concludes that isn’t a good look on him because Shawn is naturally nice and attractive but he looks so aggressive with that expression and Harry just wants to slap (maybe kiss) it off his face. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. Shouldn’t feel so happy but know you can’t have it in the long run. People deserve to cherish what they have while it’s there. But here, these signs are telling us to only expect what’s permeant on our skin. It’s like we’re throwing our lives away for this.”

Harry knows he’s got a point, but he’s still holding onto the inevitable that one day he’ll find his soulmate.

 

♡

 

On another Friday (it seems like Friday’s are usually good to him, except for today), his class draws out terribly slow. His lecture on sleeping disorders in psychology make him feel drowsy. Maybe it was the night before — or the dawn this morning — video calling Zayn until four in the morning, helping each other get off with their words, obscene descriptions of what they’d do to each other of they could be together.

He’s successful eventually, as the second he’s dismissed, he waits patiently for the bus that takes the route to the nearest stop at his mum’s. He wants to see his and his stepdad and siblings, to countdown whatever time until his mark is revealed. He actually runs home the second the bus drops him off by the coffee shop he and Gemma always went to when they were in high school.

They welcome him around twelve with open arms, suggesting different places to eat. He thinks that he doesn’t want to eat because his stomach feels weird, too anxious to see initials form on his skin.

“Baby, it’s until midnight. We can do things.” Anne says with a pat to his back.

Harry shakes his head. He loves his mother but she never understood him when it came to his whole thrill of soulmates. It’s probably because she’s dated far too many men before settling with Robin (she knew it was him when they reached for the bus rail and their fingers with each other’s initials touched). Harry smiles thinking about that beautiful moment and he says happily, “I know but I’m just so excited. I really want to see the initials. I want to have some hint. What if I’ve met him before?”

Gemma sighs, sliding a cup of tea in Harry’s direction, “How do you think Zayn will feel? That you’re so obsessed with this?”

Harry shakes his head with a laugh almost in a mocking, crude tone too — because he knows his boyfriend best, “He’s fine. We’re both fine. I told them that if he finds his, he’s free to leave me.”

Gemma suddenly snaps, “You guys are just wasting your days. Why don’t you break up with him?”

“I still love him. I want to be with him still.” Harry thinks about it and he absolutely loves Zayn from the first moment he saw him when Harry was barely settling into high school here as a junior, seeing Zayn at age nineteen picking up a younger sibling and nearly running Harry over. It’s a tragic story but awfully cute because Zayn offered to drop Harry home. Later on Harry and Doniya became friends, resulting in Harry being around way more often. Cutting it short, neither of them could resist — especially Harry.

“But look. What if you’re already forty years old and you don’t find your soulmate. You’ll still be with him? Knowing that there’s someone else?” Gemma’s tone is soft now. Harry gets why she concerned but he wishes she wouldn’t.

“We don’t know if I’ll be with Zayn in twenty years. Probably not.” Harry tells.

Storming off her seat, puts a hand on her hip and points her finger in a threatening way, “You doubt him too much. I don’t think you deserve him.”

“Gemma!” Anne hisses.

“It’s true. He’s too caught up with this that he refuses to appreciate what’s in front of him.” Gemma says and Harry thinks that his sister would slap him if their mother isn’t around. He understands Gemma, he gets it. But he loves Zayn, he does. But he also loves this soulmate that he hasn’t even met yet.

Harry settles with a grumble, pouting and crossing his arms, “You sound like Shawn.”

“Oh, who’s Shawn?” Gemma asks, earning another snappy response from Harry.

“It’s my roommate. You’d understand if you weren’t so busy pestering my about me and Zayn’s relationship.”

“Don’t you understand? The longer you’re with him, you’ll just hurt yourself. One day you’ll find your soulmate and it’ll crush him. Or the other way around. Because people believe so much in that. They’ll drop who they love — who they spent so much time building up with — just to settle down with someone they barely know.” Gemma leaves right after that.

Harry remains quiet, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t know because Gemma’s never been so against him. Wasn’t ever really opinionated when it came to Harry and his views on soulmates.

There’s a warm hand on his and he knows it’s his mum’s. She always has a way of caressing his hand with her thumb in a way that’s so comforting and encouraging. She says softly, “Do you know why she’s like that? Why she’s so set on that, Harry?”

“No. And I don’t care because you guys are discouraging me from my soulmate.” Harry probably projects as hard headed and not accepting of anyone else’s opinions but he can’t help it. His belief for a soulmate in life is so strong for him.

Anne is taking in a deep breath and Harry’s already preparing himself for a long story because it’s what she does and Harry always remembers that. “She was in a happy relationship for so long. Remember her best friend from school? She never told you, but they were together during her last year. And just when she was going to propose to stay in the UK with him instead of living with us, he told her he’s breaking up because he’s found his soulmate.”

Now Harry really has no words in response.

“She’s just protecting you. You could stay with Zayn for as long as you want, until that moment. Or you can let him down and wait for the one you really want.” Anne places a delicate kiss to his curls before seeking off towards the pantry, claiming that they can do their favorite thing together — bake a cake.

Harry texts Zayn that he _loves_ him _._

_with every little fragment of my body._

  

♡

 

“One more minute!” Harry shouts and wraps his fingers around his left wrist. Somehow, he thinks that the more he touches it, the more likely it’ll appear on his wrist. The dark black ink with who knows what font or whether it’s bold or italics. That’s how people confirm their soulmates. Sure there’s tons of people with the same initials but the way to really get narrowed down is to base each other’s tattoos on the font and style of the initials. Harry can only imagine what his will look like. He still has a flicker of hope that it says _ZM_ and maybe he can tolerate sharing Zayn, and Zayn’s soulmate can have _HS_ , and _yeah_ — polyamorous works.

Zayn says he’d call while Harry blows out his birthday cake and come up with his soulmates mark, but would rather see Harry as eighteen for the first time in person. It’s a weird thing. Harry thinks it’s funny that right now her seventeen, and a few minutes he’ll be one age older, but he’s the same guy. Nothing will be different. Except the fact that he’ll have a soulmates mark. 

Gemma and Anne gather around in the living room where Harry cradles their homemade cook in his palms. Seconds go by watching the clock tick and then he’s blowing the little flames off the waxy candles before they can melt onto the vanilla icing.

“Happy birthday, Harry. I hope you’re content with your soulmates tattoo. Best wishes to you, especially now that you’re not living under my roof.” Anne sighs happily and takes the cake away from his hands to drape her arms over his shoulders.

Peering over her while he’s exchanging the loving hug, he sees Gemma with a grin, “Better go find out where the mark is.”

“Sorry, mum! Can I?” He shoves her off a little too forcefully and he apologizes for that.

Anne laughs and brings the cake to the kitchen, and Harry following like a stray puppy. She tells him, “Don’t you remember? Your mark doesn’t appear until the actual birthday.”

“It does?”

“Yes, baby. Oh you were counting so silly, I thought it was just to countdown your birthday in general. I should thought to mention that to you earlier. Sorry.” She pats him on the back, and because she’s his mother, he doesn’t shrug it off. Sure he’s a bit disappointed that he doesn’t get to see it right away but, well he can’t be mad at her.

Harry teasingly jokes instead, “My life has been a whole lie, mum. Since when was it like that?"

“Generation of the nineties.” Anne answers. “But I thought you always did your research. Expected that you knew." 

“It takes time to find a soulmate. I’m patient enough to wait for the mark.” He says with a soft smile because he could wait, “I’ve been waiting seventeen years already, what’s one day?”

 

♡

 

Harry bounces out of bed bright and early, leaving a note on his mother’s dining room table to apologize for not waking her up before leaving. He just really wants to freshen up and do a little shopping for himself before meeting at Niall’s for his birthday. He and Niall need to shop anyways too, so technically he needs to meet Niall before the party. 

Inside his bedroom he figures that he’ll want to wear something unusual. Something different than he would wear, something flashy and unique. He settles for a golden sheer shirt and his typical tight pants with one of his favorite light brown Chelsea boots. 

“Niall! It’s me, Harry! We should buy stuff for my birthday! Mum gave me some money last night!” Harry shouts through the door while he knocks rapidly. He’s just so thrilled to spend the day preparing for his birthday, also anticipating the hour for his mark to appear.

“Geez, mate. Alright, let’s go. Could of warned me first.” Niall groans, patting Harry’s back and locking the door. “Look very fit today by the way.”

“Are you saying I usually don’t?”

“That’s not what I mean, Harold.” Niall shoves Harry through the elevator frame and sings him _happy birthday_ while it echoes throughout the small space.

During the grocery trip, which they seek out of downtown to find a superstore, Harry and Niall purchase such things like sodas and chips and cookies. They find a Chinese takeout place where they order three main entrees and order pizza from the shop near by with buffalo wings. Harry laughs at how they’ve become so accustomed to these type of foods, seems so party like, so American and typical to buy things like these — foods which are usually binge type of eats.

  

♡

  

The first person to arrive is Zayn, greeting Harry by lifting him up from the hips and securing him tight with his arms around his waist as they kiss until they run out of breath, as they kiss until Niall throws a baby tomato at them (they got salad too because it was a party meal with the pizza).

“This is Nialler. Aside from Shawn, he’s one of my new friends.” Harry introduces, also adding, “And he’s Zayn. Best boyfriend ever.”

The two men exchange handshakes and Niall offers to give Zayn a loft tour. Harry doesn’t miss the way Niall even includes, “I’ll show you the vacant location for you to play Jeremiah’s birthday song.”

“Niall! My flat is only a few feet away!” Harry mentions with a shout. If he wanted to _do things_ , the walk is no troubling distance.

While Harry occupies himself by finding a good playlist for later on, he snacks on some of the chips — crisps as he still thinks of it sometimes — and when he turns around to offer Zayn some, he sees him with a concerned face. He’s on the phone over at the balcony. Harry would approach him with caring arms but he waits in the living room until he senses that Zayn’s ready for him.

Zayn eventually walks over to Harry and runs his fingers through Harry’s curls. Harry lets his eyes flutter shut because this gesture always has Harry shivering, feeling cared for. He can’t help but think that one day his soulmate will do that without even having to ask if it’s something Harry likes. He’ll just know.

“Can I bring Syl? Like just for her to eat and say hey to you for the meantime. She’s better now, want you to see how well she’s doing. You’re not like having drinks are you?” Zayn asks, fingers still caught up with the swirls of Harry’s ends. 

It’s simple for Harry to nod, directing it towards both questions actually, “I mean Niall has some for guests. Like his friends. But I’m not drinking. You could. I don’t mind watching. Gemma is coming, maybe she could take her for the night.”

And Harry hopes he implies enough, just as Niall had earlier. He trails his hand down Zayn’s chest and thumbs at his hip from beneath the thin grey long sleeve. He gets on his toes enough to gain access to press his lips to Zayn’s jaw. They’re nearly the same height, with Harry just an inch shorter but he likes when his shadow dominates Zayn’s figure, therefore on his tippy toes — that’s his favorite thing. He keeps at it, nipping away, on Zayn’s jaw neck and collarbone.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Zayn says softly and Harry feels familiar hands on his hips. Loves the gentle gesture on his hips especially when he’s wearing sheer because he can feel Zayn’s warm fingertips through the material best.

 

♡

 

Sure there are new people that Harry meets, but he’s fine with that because the more the merrier. He needs new friends anyways. But what makes him flustered is the fact that Niall invited over some people from the building which he hasn’t met. So it’s strange for people to show up, wish him the best wishes, then eat all the food and get their dirty foot prints in Niall’s lovely wood floor.

Harry has only met Liam of all the people in his floor aside from Niall — with an awkward encounter. Liam had dropped his garments once in the laundry room and Harry showed up on his welcome matt with it. He doesn’t think so negatively of the situation because he reminds himself that it was a good deed, or else these expensive underwear would of been thrown in the trash.

Regarding trash, Harry has a habit for constantly cleaning up. He smooths the counter surface by throwing away any left over plates or empty cans. Niall tells him not to sweep or completely wipe down any tables, at least not yet. But Harry still does here and there while making small talk with people who could potentially be his new friends.

It’s all neglected when Zayn comes back with Syl. He carries her in with the bubble coat that Harry purchased for her and some boots over these stripped tights. It’s so adorable, Harry nearly drops his bowl of popcorn to stride over to the Malik’s and cuddle them. 

“Look it’s Harry.” Zayn coos to Syl and hands her to Harry who she follows easily. Harry kisses her cheek and walks towards the further end of the Niall’s apartment.

Harry doesn’t mind taking care of Syl, never does actually. So he does keep his promise, claiming that he’ll watch her while Zayn eases into the party.

“Just quick drinks and I’ll be back. Don’t know anyone anyways.” This is something Harry’s always loved most about Zayn. He never tries to fit in, always doing his own thing but not feeling as if he’s an outcast. He waits for people to come to him, but he’s not anti social or awkward at making conversation. He’s just the best listener out there, careful and intensive. Harry just loves his ways of being patient and prepared for anything, loves that he keeps it to himself but opens easily if it’s the right person.

Gemma arrives, the same time as Shawn actually, so he assumes that he doesn’t have to introduce them. Harry takes the time to eat and feed Syl when Gemma comes over so that he doesn’t have to multitask too much. Just Incase he feeds Syl an amount that he would feed himself, Gemma can warn him.

“Ask Syl what’s her favorite fruit, Gem. I taught her. Go! Ask, ask her!” Harry bounces in his seat, patting at his sisters lap.

Gemma rolls her eyes, but bounces Syl on her anyways and coos, “What’s your favorite fruit, sweetie?” 

“Bananas!” It doesn’t come out exactly like bananas but more like _bawnanas_. He’s is proud either way, hopes to have more of himself rub off on her as well.

Harry reaches for her wrist so she can guide her to a high five. He gets up and straightens his shirt. Sometimes he never wants to leave her. It’s weird for him to have such a difficult attachment with her because one day Zayn and Harry wouldn’t even be close like they are right now and Syl might just slip through his fingers easily. It’s bound to happen. But he tries not to think of it, especially around Gemma because she always knows when he’s in too deep over soulmates and he does not need that at all right now.

“Gem! Watch her for a sec. Restroom calls!” Harry pokes Syl’s cheek before quickly managing his bladder. When he’s done, Gemma is swaying a toy at Syl’s face while Zayn is nowhere in sight like he had been earlier near the balcony. 

Someone, familiar strong arms and his favorite cologne scent, wraps their arms around Harry’s waist, giving him the tightest squeeze. “Can I have this dance?” 

“You never dance.” Harry has a faint twinkle in his eyes, amused because he knows his boyfriend well — would never casually move his limbs all silly, especially not in public — and to think that Zayn is offering such a thing, he’s just flat out happy.

Harry wraps his arms over Zayn’s shoulder and pulls him close. Music isn’t loud enough, so they’re capable of talking to each other in normal inside voices, though, they find themselves whispering little things. Zayn brings up what Harry’s done as a teen — childishly reckless things like sliding down the stairs with a mattress, and once bringing Zayn to his own dance when he wasn’t supposed to; things like that. Harry confesses a few things he’s afraid of. But between the side to side steps and tight grips, Harry rests his chin over Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn reassures him that there’s plenty of good things to come — like his soulmate mark. Which, which again, is something that Harry doesn’t really want to think about right now.

Suddenly, he doesn’t really want to dance anymore. He’s not upset with what Zayn has said but he just doesn’t want to not look at Zayn anymore. So he pulls away from Zayn and intertwine their fingers so they’re back to the couch. He just wants to see Zayn and every bit of him. It’s better to see him with Syl, rather than to dance because Zayn hates dancing. It’s not like Harry could feel the negative energy or Zayn’s uncomfortableness dancing, but he just knows Zayn didn’t really want to — doesn’t want to put Zayn through that even though Zayn did offer in the first place. The relieved sigh from Zayn when Harry called it off confirmed it too (that Zayn was thankful to put the dancing to a minimum).

Harry is confused for a second when Zayn pulls away from him and Syl, just starting into the kitchen without a word, but hears everyone cheering seconds later. Over in the archway of the kitchen separation, he sees Zayn’s face illuminating with light — burning candles. The guests applaud and sing and Harry blows out the cake with Gemma and Syl.

It’s different because, Harry, he doesn’t wish for what he had wished when he blew his cake at midnight. During midnight he wanted to find his soulmate soon. But right now, with Zayn just appreciating him so much with love reflecting in his eyes, Harry just wishes to be with Zayn longer.

Then when Harry thinks Zayn’s palm is cupping the back of his neck for a kiss, Zayn rams Harry’s face into it and licks the icing off his cheek.

He hopes his second wish is more true.

They stay for another thirty minutes, soon announcing that they’ll be leaving earlier because he doesn’t have much a reason to stay with Niall’s friends. He’s happy he’s met them and loves the company but he’s rather be with Zayn. Gemma takes Syl, but before that happens, Zayn goes on a ten minute ramble of what to do when she’s unsure and how he’ll forward her a message of all the important phone calls.

“He says call him first, and yeah I agree, but please like try to keep it under control, okay, Gems?” Harry asks while exaggeratedly fluttering his lashes. He’s not trying to have any distractions tonight — not that Syl would be a distraction but, to hear a buzzing while he’s being plowed really would be a distraction.

 

♡

 

“Yes. Yes, please.” Harry whines out, not sure if he could handle being restricted in the tightness of his jeans. It’s too much for him to handle because he’s been anxious for it since he was on the night’s dance floor, lousily grinding against Zayn.

“Harry.” Zayn says with a grip to his arm to stop him from being so squirmy. He sounds more amused than aroused so Harry doesn’t get it, only bucking his hips toward in attempt to feel some type of friction.

When Zayn’s pushing him back, Harry sighs because he wants this. It was clear that they both did but now Harry’s not so sure. So he practically cries out, “What? What? Come on, Zee.”

“You’re glowing, right here. Your soulmates mark.” Zayn presses his thumb down to Harry’s hip where there’s a light shade of green sparkling in the darkness. It illuminates beneath Harry’s thin dress shirt, and soon fades within seconds.

“Oh, that’s what happens? That’s so incredible.” Harry’s heart is racing and he looks down while simultaneously running his hands down Zayn’s arms. Peering down to where Zayn’s hands meet his hips, he flickers his attention away from it and whispers, “Zayn. I don’t think I can look at it right now.”

“Why?”

Harry moves Zayn’s hand away and covers it with his palm but Zayn wraps his arms around Harry instead. He mumbles truthfully with something in his chest aching a bit, “I’m scared. You’re here right now. And what if I know these initials? I don’t want to think about him.”

The warmth from Zayn’s body is gone and for a second Harry thinks he’s pathetic and irrelevant because he’s wanted this his whole life. He’s probably being too confusing and Zayn doesn’t want him anymore. Though he’s reassured when he opens his eyes and Zayn’s got some sticker. He puts it on Harry’s hip, a weird large sticker saying birthday boy. He laughs, “We’ll look at it tomorrow morning then.”

“Where’d you get this?” Harry asks amused, cupping his hands around Zayn’s jaw.

“Figured this would happen.” Zayn coos and drapes Harry over his shoulder, making Harry sequel and slap him playfully. He’s a bit aggressive when he brings him to Harry’s bedroom, dropping him onto the bed. He gets in between Harry’s legs and whispers, “For now, you going to let me take care of you?”

 

♡

 

Now that Harry’s eighteen, he seeks out for a job. He didn’t have one ever because he wanted to spend all his time focusing on his education, and Zayn of course. But he doesn’t think he could have his mother paying for another month of his rent with Shawn, therefore Harry easily earns a job at the florist shop at end of the street.

Flowers bloom left and right, too much abundance of flower that he’s capable of taking the withering ones home. He decides he’ll shower he and Shawn’s apartment with bright colors and a lovely scent of the different types. Though, Harry knows nothing about the types of flowers yet — just cuts stems and waters them. 

When he’s home with a bouquet of different flowers, Shawn stands in the center of the kitchen with an apron and a box of some baking mix in his hands. “Oh hello, chef.”

“Just going to make muffins.” Shawn looks up from the box and grins when his eyes rake what’s in Harry’s hands, “Aw, got me roses? I’m such a good roommate. That why?”

“Sure, Shawn.” Harry giggles and gets assistance from Shawn for what to put them in. Eventually he does share how these are just the flowers that can’t be on the display stands anymore.

They make casual small talk about Shawn’s job at the seafood buffet and he gives Harry pointers on good customer service and how to ignore the rude visitors. Harry insists that he could never get mad at anyone because people have their days and it’s okay. 

Harry lets Shawn stir the dry and wet ingredients together that he has assembled. What he likes is that they kind of just work. They talk easily in between things and glide pass each other smoothly when they’re home. It’s a nice domestic energy the two have.

“Zayn has a daughter?” Shawn asks in transition, lousily mixing the batter that Harry takes from him because Harry thinks he can do better.

“Yeah, um. We were together when I was sixteen and I didn’t find out about her until our six months. She was barely a year old when I met her. Now she’s that beautiful thing. Two but still, she’s so old to me.” Harry loves the story about he and Syl, though it could sometimes see a bit odd. It was definitely strange and nerve-wrecking when he had to tell his family he was dating someone who is technically illegal, someone illegal and with a child.

Shawn nods and makes a hesitant face before saying, “But her mom? Don’t mind me asking?”

“Dumb story.” Harry chuckles and roles his eyes, “She wanted Zayn to stay because she was sure that my baby was her soulmate.”

“Your baby?” Shawn says curiously when Harry’s just put some batter onto the pans to bake soon.

“Shit, sorry. _Zayn_. She thought Zayn was hers so she convinced him of that. It was absurd and cunning in a way where he end up getting full custody. I’m so proud because, he had to deal with that all after he graduated. Now he’s fine. He — I’m really proud.” Harry flutters his eyes shut and touched his heart because somehow he just feels it. Feels this weird sense of love or something rumbling in his chest.

“That why you love him?”

It comes instinctively to him, “Because he’s strong? Yes. Physically and mentally. Makes my legs quiver and my heart melt. Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” Harry sometimes forgets that people don’t do the things he does. Harry is quite wild which is why Zayn’s good at keeping up with him, yet, he’s never met anybody else so he wouldn’t know if there was better than Zayn. But he also doesn’t want to find out, sometimes.

“It’s fine.” Shawn chuckles. He sets a timer and sits at the dining table, raising his laptop open. It kind of hinders Harry’s view d him, and then he’s saying, “Not only do I not believe in soulmates, I’ve never been in love.”

Harry doesn’t believe that. He doesn’t know what it feels like not to be in love. Because Zayn makes his stomach flutter with more than just butterflies and makes him feel confident and mushy at the same time. And when they touch it’s always something so comforting that Harry can’t describe. All he can say is, “One day I hope, you do. It feels good.”

 

♡

 

All things are perfect, until it really isn’t a few weeks after Harry’s birthday.

Zayn’s been distant because Harry hasn’t been wanting to get in the way of Zayn and his family, because Syl is inconsistently sick, once again. But it’s not like he has the time to see them anyways because his job and studies hinder him. His education has really been weighing him down that he’s either always at the library after class or work, or locked away into his bedroom, ignoring Zayn’s text. Sometimes he doesn’t even get to see Shawn — never did anyways, so that doesn’t matter. But he still makes breakfast and tells Shawn left overs are in the microwave.

And as for his soulmates mark, he’s never looked at that yet. He pulls on his pants quicker before he could see the mark, drapes a shirt over his body before it could expose.

Harry doesn’t really want to know anymore.

 

♡ 

 

“Harry? You know that Syl hasn’t been feeling well right?” Zayn says, and he’s petting at Harry very weirdly. It’s not the gentle caressing, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with Harry’s hair like it’s an experiment to see which movement will make his hair bite his hand off or something.

“Yes, babe. I know. I hope gets well. Why don’t you ever let me visit her?” Harry asks in a soft voice.

Zayn doesn’t really say anything, so Harry has to look up because he’s utterly concerned. He feels it in his bones, that something is not good. It’s Zayn’s silence being heavy in the room, and how tense he seems to be. 

Giving him a moments hr eventually mumbles out, “That’s why I’m here.”

Harry flickers his eyes over to Zayn, keeping a small distance because Zayn’s tone is heavy, like it’ll break Harry once it’s dropped. And it does. When Zayn says, “I found my soulmate.”

It’s heavy. His chest, his shoulders. Something’s heavy. It’s probably his heart. It’s weighing him down, reason for his shoulders for slouching. And it feels like his shoulders could break it but it also already feels broken. Harry is numb with the feeling, knowing that Zayn will leave him first. Hurt with the way that Zayn sounds happy because he made — makes — Zayn happy. But of course, they were never meant to be. He knew that, but he’s never prepared himself for heart break with his first boyfriend who wasn’t his soulmate.

“He’s Syl’s pediatric nurse.” Zayn whispers continually, “I won’t say anymore if you don’t want me to." 

Harry feels his eyes burn, didn’t know he’s starting to cry until Zayn wipes the tears away. He doesn’t want Zayn to feel restricted to talk. He wants it, wants to hear the story of soulmates — in Zayns perspective — because he loves the concept of soulmates. He won’t let his numb heart prevent Zayn from holding back. Breath hiccuping, he manages to strain out, “I want it. Tell me.”

“It was a few weeks ago. Syl did need some vaccination shots. She didn’t want to do them alone, I mean she’s just a toddler but I could see it in her face. So I had encouraged her by raising my sleeve up. He saw it. Saw the initials and asked if I found my soulmate yet.” Zayn smiles suddenly and pecks Harry’s cheek for some reason. “Said I have the perfect boy with me right now but he’s technically not destined to be mine but he’ll be someone else’s one day.”

“Our fonts matched. Sloppy scribbled with italics. He had ZJM. Which I’m surprised because I don’t have his middle name.” Zayn reaches for Harry’s hand and tries to get him to touch Zayn’s shoulder, but Harry doesn’t think he could do it anymore. Doesn’t think he could possibly touch _that_ spot ever again.

“Harry. Come on.” Zayn sighs, he wraps his arms tighter around Harry as they lay above the sheets. Harry’s face buried into Zayn’s neck, a familiar home. It’s like Zayn wants to suffocate him, he’s clinging on too tight, almost rolling over Harry with his leg hitching over his thighs. But Harry thinks this could be the best way to die. In the arms of the first person he’s ever loved, right after finding out his lover has a soulmate. “I still love you, okay?”

“Can you stay?”

“Tell me.” Zayn whispers. And for a second Harry doesn’t understand. It’s like he’s forgotten already. But this is their thing. When either of them needs assurance they say those two very words.

“I love you.”

Zayn tucks Harry beneath the comforter and takes place where he belongs, draping a protective arm over Harry’s body. Between the sheets and Zayn, Harry knows he doesn’t want to wake up for a long time.

 

♡

 

Reaching for Zayn, he doesn’t feel him.

His eyes seem puffy but he doesn’t remember crying in his sleep. He stopped that when Zayn kept holding him tighter like he was putting Harry back together.

Harry just hurts right now because there’s an empty space on his bed that belongs to Zayn. It’s cold meaning he’s been gone for a long time. He doesn’t know what to do with that thought besides to fall over and lay on the coolness, letting his warmth radiate on the sheets and for a second he could pretend that Zayn is just in the bathroom or making Harry breakfast.

“Hey? Harry.” It’s Shawn nudging his head in his doorway just an inch. “Heard the creaking. Assumed you were up. I just wanted to check on you." 

Harry immediately wipes his eyes with his balled up fists, trying not to put too much pressure but it feels sort of good because all he sees is pitch black and some stars, “Why do you feel the need to?”

Shawn shrugs and looks at the edge of the bed, and Harry gets it so he pats at that spot welcomely. Shawn then shrugs, “Zayn left at five in the morning. I was awake for a warm bath and he told me... to tell you that he’s sorry.”

“A warm bath. Really Shawn?” At least Harry starts his day with something a bit bright. To think someone like Shawn, so busy with his schedule, and all bulky in the arms, would take a bath well, that’s just a silly, adorable image. 

Shawn chuckles, “That’s the only part you got?”

Harry curls up in his blankets, grabbing a smaller one and draping it over his head but still revealing his eyes, just not enough to make any eye contact with Shawn. He says below a breath, “He broke up with me. At least I think he did. He said he found his soulmate. His soulmate knows, too. So I know Zayn will drop me for this LT of his.”

“He didn’t end things unless he said so.”

“You don’t know, Zayn. He’s mine. He’s mysterious and confusing. He’s a puzzle piece in a box with the wrong picture. He won’t make any sense. He’s so vague. He’s leaving me.” Harry can’t help but feel his chest ache, eyes prickling with tears now.

Harry feels the weight of the bed shift and he thinks Shawn’s gone now, but warmth embraces him so he sinks into it, sinks into Shawn’s tight hug. And the embrace only gets tighter when Shawn whispers, “On the bright side. You’re one more man closer to your soulmate.” 

“Thank you for that. But now I don’t even know if I care. This hurts. I just want him.” Harry means all of that, even if the person he was a month ago would of been ecstatic to hear that statement.

“But your soulmate. Remember all your rants about it. This is your first heartbreak but it’ll be your last because you’ll have a soulmate. Someone who’s perfect for you.” Harry feels like he should trust Shawn’s words because after all, Shawn never believed in soulmates. Something about this makes him feel hopeful and makes him realize he shouldn’t be so upset because Zayn and him weren’t soulmates.

“Thank you, Shawn.” Harry finalizes and wipes his nose with his arm, earring chuckle from Shawn. He looks over to him with a soft and thankful smile, “Can I ask where your mark is?" 

Shawn drapes another blanket over Harry and scoots closer so that they’re both beneath the same warmth, ”No telling. I cover it up. You’ll find out one day. Perhaps not. We won’t know." 

 

♡

  

Harry doesn’t answer any of Zayn’s calls for some time even though he knows they need confrontation. They never officially broke up, Harry doesn’t know if Zayn’s seeing his soulmate but it feels obvious. He doesn’t want to see Zayn’s happiness, though he knows it’s all he wants — for Zayn to be happy. He just really can’t witness it.

But Shawn, Shawn is not only a great roommate but has become a greater friend. He’s been working on his schedule to keep Harry more company, coming home earlier and working a little less. Harry had told him to stop putting him but Shawn insisted, “Not pitying you. Just think you need a friend.”

They sit side by side in a booth at Shawn’s work, while Shawn is off shift. But he claims they have his favorite food, so he doesn’t mind being seen eating here when he’s not catering to his job. Harry’s never had different types of seafood, so he’s anxious and fascinated at the same time.

“It’s a buffet but like we also have platters if you want that instead.” Shawn scoots closer to Shawn and points at various photos of different dishes. They’re all displayed vertically along the borders of the menu with their orders on the inner side. Harry usually likes to just read the main ingredients below the title of the dish but Shawn keeps pointing at the photos. He doesn’t know why the waiter gave only one recipe, but apparently he’s Shawn’s favorite coworker.

This lighting is giving him a bit of a headache but besides that he feels good today. A little optimistic so he tells Shawn, “You order. I don’t know what I would like.”

Shawn hums and furrows his eyebrows with his bottom lip jutting out a bit, “We’ll go easy. Shrimp? And, hmm, crab. We won’t get into shelly, clammy stuff like oyster or clams or mussels.”

Harry plays with his straw wrapper while Shawn waves down the waiter, Brian. He listens to them talk about the order and make some silly inside joke. Harry feels a bit weird because he’s still not used to the whole dim lit dinner thing with someone other than Zayn. He’s sitting next to Shawn because they were trying to order together and Shawn remains because he says they’ll be sharing so it could be better like this. But this is how he sits with only Zayn. The last time he ate with Shawn, they were across each other. As for Niall, they also sat across each other. Hell, Zayn and Harry’s first dinner date was by sitting side by side — which is usually unusual for most first date outings.

“Be back, alright. If the food gets here, feel free to go and start without me. I won’t be long anyways.” Shawn slides out of the booth, leaving Harry to stare blank at the seat in front of him — thinking, that’s where Shawn was supposed to sit, it’s where Shawn was supposed to excuse himself from. Not here, next to him.

 Harry grabs his phone and decides to gather up the courage to delete some of Zayn’s photos because after all, it’s no use to keep them. And if anything, they’re all backed up onto his laptop. He also thinks that he shouldn’t delete them because he’s hoping they’re still friends. They’ve promised they’d still be friends but Harry’s hurting too much right now to think of that possibility. Maybe he should keep them because they really should be okay with each other. It’s nothing — the pictures — no nudes or anything exposing. But they’re just too cute, like Zayn standing near his art or with Syl, or of the two of them lying in bed and taking a photo of themselves with the mirror across Zayn’s bed. Stuff like that, it’s too mushy and romantic that Harry can’t have them. It’s best he saved simple photos of them together in one picture where it looks more platonic and simple.

In the midst of overthinking and thumbing at his phone with upward strokes, he hears a familiar, faint, “Hey.”

Harry averts his eyes up and to the left immediately, following the direction of the voice. His breath catches in his throat before he settles with a scorn face to match with his tone when he asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Public restaurant. Can I not?” Zayn snickers, and steps closer to the table, two hands deep in the pockets of his jean jacket.

Harry frowns, feeling completely idiotic, he sighs, “Sorry. Didn’t expect to see you around this neighborhood anymore.”

The way Zayn stands tall with his shadow hovering Harry’s table makes him feel so small and condensed. Nothing looks different about him, it’s just a very intimating angle. He follows Zayn’s eyes to where there are two cloth covered utensils. He purses his lips out before interjecting, “Table for two?”

“Not what it looks like.” Harry says quietly. He doesn’t need to explain. He should of just said _yes, yes table for two because you left me and I’m moving on._

Zayn just lazily waves his hand with a shrug, “It’s fine. I’m here with my soulmate, Louis.”

Now Harry’s more upset at Zayn, and not in the nostalgic way he was minutes ago but he’s genuinely agitated to think that Zayn would rub his soulmates status in his face like this when he knows how to torn Harry is at the situation (being that Zayn found his soulmate before Harry and that Zayn is actually with his soulmate and not Harry). Harry straightens his posture and speaks confidently, “Okay. You can go back to him now. Don’t know why you came here in the first place.”

There’s a sigh coming from Zayn’s direction but Harry doesn’t dare look. He’s said all he wanted and is leaving it like that, gathering the courage to actually delete Zayn’s solo photos off his phone easily now. But he doesn’t get to permanently deleted them from his recently deleted folder because Zayn’s sitting next to him in the booth. “I saw you and I knew that I needed to talk to you. I haven’t gotten through your calls. Have you blocked me? Because I thought we were still going to be mates.”

“Didn’t block you. And I can’t be.” Harry says directly, only wanting to answer what’s being asked and not going all vague like he usually does. Because he knows Zayn loves when he’s drawl and open with responses — can’t give Zayn that satisfaction now, can he.

“You’ll get through with it because you’re the nicest, strongest person I know. You’re mad at me, but we both know it won’t last long. Besides, you always had said you wanted me to meet your future soulmate. I’ll wait for that.” Zayn is looking at Harry, he just feels it. “When you’re ready, you’ll meet mine. But only when it’s right.”

“Why don’t you make me meet him now.” Harry rolls his eyes, he didn’t mean to say that. But if it makes Zayn shut up, if it makes Harry get over all of this to come to his senses that Zayn isn’t his anymore, he’ll do it. 

“He’s not here. I saw you and told him something came up with Syl. Didn’t know you were eating with someone.”

Harry now feels guilt, something stirring in his stomach uncomfortably. Because Zayn, Zayn doesn’t seem to be letting go of Harry either, as much as Harry isn’t doing so for Zayn. So he confesses, all in his pathetic ways that he always was for Zayn because he couldn’t never really lie to him or hide anything from him, “If it makes you feel any better, it’s just my roommate.”

“Oh, Shawn’s a good bloke.” Zayn says like he’s trying to prove it to the both of them. He’s failing to hide any feelings that indicate he’s hurt, Harry just feels it.

Harry wants Zayn to be alright, so he honestly clears up any of Zayn’s ponderous thoughts, “Not like that. We’re not on a date. He works here and wanted to let me try some of his favorite plates.”

“Enjoy then.” Zayn says softly, getting out of the booth and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Before Zayn’s frame can get smaller and smaller with every step, Harry stands up and wants to prevent him from leaving, “Wait.”

“Yeah?” Zayn’s face comes into view with his chin over his shoulder. Like a puppy being called, he resembles on in its scenario. He looks so soft, so fragile and small. Harry doesn’t know how to not love him.

“Where are you headed?”

Zayn shrugs, “I’m hungry. But you know. And I promised mum I’ll bring her and Syl take out.”

“Can I come?” It’s dumb to ask, it’s dumb in general. That Harry keeps going back to Zayn — well he doesn’t _keep going._ It’s his first time escaping away with him after their breakup. It’ll be his last time, he knows it. He just wants this all to end better than the last. He doesn’t want to remember how he cried over Zayn in bed, rather, wants to know that they left on good terms getting food for Zayn’s loved ones.

“Please.” Zayn clears his throat. “It would be nice.”

 

♡

 

“You’ve always loved this place.” Harry whispers, more to himself but Zayn heard anyways, because he’s nodding in response.

Harry feels like he should reach for Zayn’s hand and just hold it. Because it’s just out there, dangling to his side so welcoming. But soon enough, it’ll be occupied with the take out plastic bag and — yeah, it’s not necessary for Harry to hold it anyways, even if Zayn’s got another free hand.

Exchanging small talk here and there’s about Harry’s balancing his education with the part time workforce, and Zayn seeking another job to afford prescription because he’s done asking his mother to use her insurance for it and would rather help her. Both of them just have that problem — have trouble relying on others and wanting to change oh so badly, but it’s too difficult it to be independent.

They’re in the street of Zayn’s apartment, inching closer. And before Harry could ask to say his final goodbyes (as something more than what he’ll be the next time he ever sees the Maliks), he sees a petite figure with fluffy hair blowing from the wind. He’s sitting on the porch, the same one Harry used to sit on as he watched Zayn blow smoke out of his lips from cigarettes. The same one he used to perch himself on, waiting for Zayn to get home, usually with his mum’s extra packed lunch just for Zayn. 

“Hey." I made a little gift basket, for Syl. Lots of medical heath things that’ll help. I’ve even brought your mom take out. She’s feeding it to Syl right now.” It’s _the soulmate,_ Harry knows. Who else would know about Syl, because Zayn never talks about his daughter. Not that he’s ashamed, but he would rather be more protective and less exposed to people who don’t matter. This man here against Zayn’s porch gate matters.

“Oh, thank you, Louis.” Zayn says. He leans forward and engulfs _Louis_ in a hug, which makes Harry wince and look away.

“Do you want to meet — “ Harry is already walking off before Zayn could finish. And its not because he’s Zayn’s soulmate, but because _he is Zayn’s soulmate_. Zayn cancelled on him at the restaurant, yet he _still_ came here to check up on them. And waited even though Trisha probably said Zayn was out getting things for them. Zayn’s soulmate got all that Zayn had wanted, before Zayn could even arrive. Louis knew Zayn, before Zayn could say a thing. Louis did everything in a way Harry wouldn’t think of.

Harry knows Zayn’s following him. Can feel the way he sidewalk seems to shake with every step even if he can’t really _feel it_. Zayn calls out his name until he meets him at the end of the street, hindering Harry from walking any further, “It won’t take long. Just say hey.”

Harry shakes his head. He can’t do it. Mostly because he feels selfish. He’s upset from the very start. He shouldn’t of called Zayn around anymore, should of let him stay with Syl. Then she wouldn’t of gotten more ill and Zayn wouldn’t have ever met his soulmate. He’s upset because he knows Louis can take care of the both of them way better than Harry could. They’re about the same age, and Louis has a stable job at a children’s doctor office. Of course, Louis is the better option. He’s meant to be with Zayn, anyways.

He turns towards Louis’ direction and crosses his arms. It takes a lot for him to just open his mouth. But he manages to anyways, “I really hope you could give him what I couldn’t. Though I’m sure that’s impossible. Goodbye, you two.” 

Louis is his ex-boyfriend’s soulmate, who’s awfully attractive and small — small enough to fit in Zayn’s arms better than he can — and has a better career already, but Harry just senses that he can take care of them, probably fit better too, but he really can’t give Zayn and Syl what they need.

 

♡

 

“Thanks for just leaving, you know.” Shawn’s voice startles him when he’s walking inside the apartment. He’s sitting on the couch that faces the door, making it more nerve-wrecking because it gives Harry the impression that he’s been waiting for him. 

Harry sighs and takes off his coat. His voice is a bit shaky, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I️ called Niall. He agreed to the last minute thing.” Shawn says and slouches a bit. Harry’s glad at least one of them had a decent night.

“Good.” Harry mentions what he’s thinking, taking the empty spot next to Shawn. 

Shawn sort of just slouches into the couch. And it doesn’t really seem good in this room. Like the light is dim, the one by Shawn on the side table, with all of the window blinds up. It just feels dark in here. A gloomy energy. And given, Shawn says, “Not really.”

“Yeah?” It’s kind of like _tell me more_.

“Hooked up on your birthday. Today he thought I was inviting him to confess my feelings or something. I let him down easy though. I don’t really want that. Not yet at least.” Harry doesn’t know what to do with that. If anything, he figured Shawn liked Niall a bit from all the times he’s talked about them hanging out. And it even seems to connect, knowing that one time when Harry met Niall before Shawn could, he was a bit off with that.

“Why don’t you want him?” Harry asks, still dwelling on the image of Shawn and Niall, feeling fond because it would work.

“Time isn’t right to just settle yet. I just needed a distraction from school. I like hanging out with him, it’s good. And we only did something that night because I mean, I just wanted to. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

Harry pities Shawn, albeit he’s feeling worse about himself because he has his problem but doesn’t want to bring it up because Shawn has his own. But Harry is always around for anyone when they need it, so he soothes into it some more, “Why didn’t you just find someone else? There was tons of people at Niall’s.” 

“I don’t sleep around with people I barely know.” Shawn comments then sighs, still not looking at Harry since the start of this venting session, “Sounds dumb I know, because I thought a quick fuck felt right and relieve me. But now Niall isn’t really planning on seeing me anymore.”

 There’s an idea coming on, and Harry just feels it. Like he senses it coming, and he’s pretty sure Shawn might too. If not, he’ll have to do what he’s been doing earlier — easing into things. He asks, like he’s genuinely curious, “Is that what you want?”

“What?” Shawn turns to where Harry is sitting a little closer to him now, leaning a bit onto Shawn with their shoulders touching. 

Harry places a hand on Shawn’s lap, a simple comforting gesture and nothing more. He coos and remains eye contact with him, “Quick, meaningless sex? With someone you know?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Don’t want a person, but don’t want a stranger.” Shawn shrugs. His words hit Harry, all impactful and he knows it means something deep despite how simple it sounds. Harry can give him _something_ in between a lover and a one night stand.

“Where should we do it?” Harry crawls over and into Shawn’s lap, bracketing his knees close and snug around Shawn’s hips. He hesitantly grinds forward, like he’s testing the water, to see whether Shawn will pull away or grip Harry’s waist and take control of his body.

“You’re fucking with me.” Shawn laughs, dropping his head onto Harry’s chest. But he isn’t shoving Harry off so Harry gets bold, cupping Shawn’s jaw so they’re looking back at each other again.

Harry just knows they can give each other what they need without any feelings because they’re both just tired in their own ways with their own reasons. But this thing here, fulfills a purpose that they both crave. He reassures Shawn, “You want meaningless. And I could use it, too.”

Shawn lifts Harry like he’s weightless, light as a feather. He walks gracefully to his bedroom, unlike Zayn who’s so quick that he stumbles on things behind him and — and Harry doesn’t need to be thinking about him right now. He doesn’t throw Harry down onto the bed like he’s used to; it could be a good thing. Instead, he drops Harry’s legs down, one by one and holds Harry close by the waist. “Sure?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods and discards his shirt over his head just to prove he’s in, and when he looks up to see Shawn just standing there, he tugs at his belt buckle and gives him a sly grin, “Now, are you sure?”

“You going to make me beg for it?” Harry whispers, letting his breath fan over Shawn’s lips. They’re closer than they’ve ever been and Harry could just kiss him already. But he doesn’t want to yet, might just save it for a silent _thank you and goodnight kiss_ , or Shawn might just do it before all that — kiss him unexpectedly while he’s fucking into him post-orgasm.

“Thought you just wanted a quick fix.” Shawn grins, his hands trailing down from Harry’s hips to his ass, giving it a squeeze.

“I’d still beg if you asked me to.” Being obedient and wanting to offer all that he can is what he does best. He doesn’t want to think about that. It’s not that he’s suddenly disinterested, but he keeps thinking about all that he shouldn’t. He sits on the bed and raises his knees to his chest, “I’ve only ever had Zayn.”

“We don’t have to.” Shawn thumbs at Harry’s lower lip cautiously.

“I want it. Please. Make me forget everything I’m so used to.” Harry knows he sounds desperate but he wants _it_ — needs it from Shawn.

“Want me to fuck it out of your system?” Shawn trails his fingers down Harry’s stomach and Harry thinks he wants it all. He wants the hair pulling, making his head lure up into Shawn’s gaze, and his thighs quivering signaling he’s close, and his throat aching from all the pleasurable sounds he’ll be exhaling, and just feeling completely, and uselessly wrecked.

“Yes.” Harry nods his head quick. Not only does he want all of that, he needs to feel good by feeling wanted and craved for. He has to admit it, “I want my first time — with someone else — to be special. I hope it’s not too much to ask. You know, I am glad it’s you though.”

The hesitancy between the two dissolves quickly. Harry lays himself down flat on the unfamiliar mattress, with Shawn above him promising, “Don’t worry about a thing.” He showers him with delicate kisses around his his collarbone and jaw but doesn’t get an inch near his lips — but Harry understands it.

Shawn’s quick to unzip and slip of Harry’s pants, following up with him on his knees between him discarding his own clothes. Feeling exposed to someone else is defiantly different, but he feels okay because it’s Shawn. He’s someone who’s sweet and gentle and patient. His hands are familiar but will be used in a way he’s never experienced with him, but it’ll be alright.

“I want you on your stomach. If you want to, of course.” Shawn mentions and Harry nods quickly. He adjusts Harry, raising him up by the hips and grabbing one of his pillows to put beneath it, claiming, “Want you to feel good throughout.” Harry assumes that when Shawn’s fucking into him, he’ll be fucking the pillow, gaining more friction. But he’s never done that before — so used to coming either first or very last on queue from it all building up and not getting to touch his own dick at all.

Another thing that Harry is certain with: Shawn gets undressed, fast. He doesn’t know how long it’s been — only a few seconds probably since he was adjusting his body on the bed — but Shawn is already straddling the back of his thighs. His palms are digging into his shoulder blades and sliding smoothly down either sides of his spine. Harry feels all limp, like he’s melting beneath Shawn’s hands, especially when he begins kneading his ass.

The warmth and ease suddenly vanished. Shawn’s laughing, “It’s a bit weird without any oil or lotion, huh?” Harry wants to say _nokeepgoing_ but Shawn proceeds before receiving an answer, “We should just start now.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good.” Harry agrees a bit too antsy, and it’s obvious.

They both laugh it off and then Harry is throwing his bottle of lubricant over his shoulder, which earns a groan from Shawn — assuming he hit him with the bottle some how.

“I used to be strictly a bottom. Now I’m a bit versatile.” Shawn says casually, which concerns Harry because he doesn’t know if small talk is normal. Of course it isn’t, but if Shawn’s into that, he sees nothing wrong with it. He’s just not sure if he would be able to keep it up that is, if Shawn is good at what he does.

“That’s nice, I guess. I’ve only ever — fuck.” Harry jolts in his place, making the headboard rock with his movement, because of the sudden intrusion. It’s bit more than he could handle when starting off. Harry gasps incredulously, “Are you using two?”

“I thought talking would sooth you into it. Want me to stop?” Shawn says, with genuine care. Harry might deny because he sounds so damn sweet, but he wavers it off, mumbling something about g _o slow_.

All of this is new, so he figures he should stick with whatever happens tonight, the exact way it inevitably happens. He doesn’t plan on changing a thing Shawn does. He really doesn’t want to tell Shawn what he’s into. Because this isn’t the body that Harry’s used to, not the one he knows inch by inch, from top to bottom. It’s Shawn, his roommate, and what he says tonight might lead him astray. And because things like this are intimate, Harry doesn’t want anyone else — besides his first love, and future soulmate — to know what really, really pleases him.

These thoughts collide in his mind, like little threads of yarn just wrapping around his head and tangling together. He nearly forgets he’s got three fingers inside of him. He must be giving Shawn a bad impression of being turned off. So he decides to raise his hips up a bit to meet Shawn’s thrusts. His toes curl a bit, but that’s instinctive.

“Ready?” Shawn asks with his free hand caressing his hip. With the permission of Harry’s lazy nod, Shawn removes his wet digits with a lousy, obscene sound that always made Harry cringe a bit (because sometimes it sounds like stirring Mac and cheese — it ruins his cheesy indulging experiences). 

Harry clutches on the pillow in front of him because he didn’t see Shawn’s length, he doesn’t know what’s coming for him. He’d usually have _his_ hand to hold, or already have his arms wrapped around _his_ shoulders. But this isn’t _him_ , it’s Shawn. He just holds tight til his knuckles turn white, and prepares for the best.

“Are you tense? Calm down, Harry.” Shawn coos, his thumb pressing against Harry’s rim — at least, Harry thinks it is. Shawn’s hands are running up his back and towards his arms, “You don’t have to hold so tight.”

“You’re probably fucking huge. Is it a crime that I’m so nervous?” Harry confesses in a way that is lighthearted but he knows he really is apprehensive about all of this.

“Flattered, darling.” Shawn laughs. “Do you want to like see —“

“No.” Harry responds a bit too quickly, “I mean, not yet anyway. Just get on with it, yeah?”

Harry’s hands are suddenly cupped with warmth. The sheets that were once settled in his right palm, are still there, but his knuckles are now hidden with Shawn’s hands above his own. He didn’t ask for Shawn to hold his hand, but he will happily accept it.

Shawn’s weight is heavy above him, a different feeling but he can get used to it. The bed shifts slightly along with the pressure on his hand sinking down into the mattress. It signals that Shawn’s propping his weight for him to reach for his dick and position himself at Harry’s entrance.

So, small talk isn’t Shawn’s thing during sex. It’s fine, but now Harry reflects on Shawn’s soft voice, all gentle and sweet, to ease away from the stretching to come. Shawn settles in him easier than he expects, but the time passes by so languidly — it must be because he’s so used to thickness, and Shawn is feeling rather long. Harry’s mostly right, so _fucking huge_.

Shawn’s thrusts do not disappoint. They play a role from the opposite of Shawn’s friendly demeanor, opposite of how soft and gentle he appears with any typical interaction. But just between them right now, skin tight and touching, Shawn’s hips are vigorous with hasty snaps. He fucks with such consistency — how his hips slap against Harry’s ass a numerous times all direct and yet so passionate, then he’d bottom out, with care. And repeat. He’s so deep, and Harry just whimpers beneath him, holding onto Shawn’s right had tighter, still snuggling with the pillow to his left.

Thinking about the atmosphere. It’s different too, it doesn’t feel like the love he’s used to. But this is nothing like a one night stand — not that Harry has anything to compare it to, anyways.

It just feels enough.

Shawn feels good enough, even better the second he finally hits Harry’s spot, earning a moan from Harry with his back arching. He releases Shawn’s hand and props himself on his forearms, which makes him back up against Shawn’s cock. Both of them moan simultaneously at that, and it feels like a lullaby Harry would listen to on restless nights.

Harry would tell him _harder_ , but he’s already at it, like the main goal of the night is to get them both off (technically, they are here for that reason). He would say _faster_ , but he doesn’t know how fast Shawn can go. There’s nothing wrong with crossing the line just a bit. He won’t know what’s on the other side unless he tries to find out.

“Do something, more. Please.” Harry pants out, breath hitching with a thrust that strikes at him way more aggressively than the previous, repetitive ones.

He’s on the edge, feeling so close that it seems like he could reach for it. Like he used to reach for stars, thinking they disappeared in his palm — when really, he just lost the sight of where they were. But here, just like Shawn, he knows what he’s looking for and can’t miss it. He wants to come; come by Shawn coming. Wants to be a good friend with benefits, knowing what sets them apart and makes them different, too. That one might involve with getting to know Shawn’s body better, which he doesn’t want. Harry just settles with what he’s certain of: He wants to make this good, so they can expect for more interactions in the near future and so on.

Shawn grips on Harry’s waist, pulling him back so that harry looses touch of the pillow he had, and now his cock is exposed to the cool air. It’s hard, and pulsating — of course that’s a fucking given while he’s being fucked. Though, something just goes straight to it the moment his back pressed against Shawn’s chest.

The two of them are on their knees with Harry’s shins bracing Shawn’s calves. He doesn’t know if he should make them sink into the bed or if this is their current position. He only knows that it feels so good, with Shawn so close to him in more ways than one. He’s sweaty against him and it’s a thing for Harry that just turns him on because it physically proves the effort Shawn’s putting into this, despite already feeling it in every single bone. He feels Shawn’s tip just prodding at his spot.

Everything’s just right and he doesn’t even have to ask for it. He grabs hold of his own dick and fists at it vigorously. It’s probably the fastest, and messiest he’s ever done himself — or to _another_ — but given the chance, he’s taking it. He only warns Shawn with a hurried _gonna come_ , before releasing over his chest and on the sheets beneath them.

“Fuck,” Shawn groans out, “You’re amazing.”

He’s soothing Harry’s sides with both of his palms. It makes Harry a bit calm. He’s catching his breath and it smoothens out his orgasm, because there’s something about how large and rough Shawn’s hands are, while initiating an intimate and comforting gesture.

Harry lunges forward, falling onto the bed because the sensual numbing is gone, and now he can feel how weak and worn out he is. He mentally apologizes for being unsure if Shawn’s close or not. But he still hears the slick sound of skin against skin, just knowing that Shawn’s jerking himself off.

Harry turns over and gets on his knees. He doesn’t think Shawn knows, because his eyes are closed. He can barely tell with the distant light from the living room. Harry’s positive though, that Shawn looks so good hovering over Harry like this. He would take his cock in his mouth but doesn’t want to disrupt. So Harry knees patient and obedient, waiting for Shawn to spill all over him. Because it’s what Harry likes, and that’s one thing he can’t bother to cover up.

Shawn sounds lovely as he’s close to his climax — without Harry’s name off his tongue even. Harry prods his tongue out, but still accepting the white stripes aiming on his cheeks and mouth.

When Shawn’s eyes finally flutter open, Harry shoos Shawn’s hand away, and wraps his lips around his tip, sucking him dry for more taste because it wasn’t enough. Harry’s pumping his fist careful to avoid triggering any tingles of sensitivity, but he still swirls his tongue for Shawn to come off smoothly. He isn’t shy either when he lets the tip of Shawn’s cock graze on his cheek to feed the remaining come on his face.

“Wanna stay for the night?” Shawn asks suddenly, eyes still a bit blown from his initial response with Harry’s boldness.

Harry accepts the offer, gladly. His mind is still a bit dizzy from all of this, though it doesn’t deter his decisions or give him any dubious thoughts. He’s sure he could lay in bed with another man and not feel weird or bad, because there really isn’t another mad. _Anymore, anyways._

And Shawn is back to his gentle, sincere self. He wipes down Harry gently, does so to himself, then lays Harry on his beanbag and fixes him with some night shorts just before replacing the comforter.

 

♡

 

“Morning, Shawn.” Harry stretches but avoids adjusting himself out on his back because he’s not trying to feel any pain soaring up his spine. Shawn responds by hovering over him and kissing his cheek. He retreats his new sweats and flings Harry’s shirt in his direction. 

“Want to go out and get breakfast?” Shawn suggests, clearing the floor from the rest of their clothing articles.

Harry’s impressed with Shawn being committing to casualty, “We’re really making this a thing aren’t we? You’re so humble right now with it, I’m sure you’re an expert.” 

“We’re friends before anything. Yeah? That’s what you wanted when you first stepped in this place.” Shawn reminds him, and Harry giggles at the reference, glad to know that Shawn remembers their first encounter and serious subject.

  

♡

  

They walk together with Harry’s arm linked around Shawn’s bicep, it’s a bit cold considering they’re up so early on a Saturday morning — especially in February, they’re thankful it isn’t raining. (Harry’s even more thankful that Zayn doesn’t live around here, hoping there won’t be another encounter. He still doesn’t get why he took his soulmate to the restaurant Shawn works at, as if he knew Harry would be there.)

The curiosity is so embedded in his mind, that he’s anxious to bring attention to it, “Did Zayn know you worked at the seafood buffet?” 

“Never told him that, no.” Shawn answers. 

Harry doesn’t know where they stand with feelings and emotions. Of course, yesterday Shawn let out a lot, but Harry was closed off Other times, like the night of the break up, Harry was very vocal about it all. It’s probably not a bad thing. They’re roommates, and friends. Meaning there’s room to be honest and open.

“He was there. That’s who I left with.” It’s none of Shawn’s business really, but Harry still feels guilty that some how, Shawn is raveled into this — even if he isn’t.

“Want me to ban him? Have a good photo of him? He could be on the wall of dine and ditchers.” Shawn says looking over at Harry. He’s joking but Harry can’t quite see it.

“He’s not your problem.” Harry relies honestly. And then, because this is honest too, “Thank you for the boost. Not just last night but all of the soulmates stuff you said the other day. Hard to say something when you don’t believe in it.”

“And thanks to you, too.” Shawn shrugs off Harry’s grip and swings his arm around Harry’s shoulder instead.

“No problem." 

Shawn shrugs, feeling a bit tense against Harry’s body. He says a little hesitantly, “We don’t have to make last night a thing. If you don’t want.”

Harry doesn’t let them continue down the path, putting a hand on Shawn’s chest to hinder him from another step, “I want it. We can. Or we can stop whenever. Could be never. Dunno. I just want you, still. Whenever I can have you.”

“I do, too.” Shawn extends his pinky out and as cliche as this gesture may be, Harry locks their fingers together.

It’s a comfortable silence walking with just car engines and birds chirping. Harry is quite famished and can’t wait to arrive at the breakfast joint Shawn has chosen for them.

 

♡

 

The place resembles an old fashioned diner, something Harry could expect anyways since Shawn did mention they’d be having traditional American breakfast. It’s all raveled in diamond patterned wallpapers, and neon pink cushions, and silver, shiny tables with some of the diner laser light sighs illuminating off it.

Shawn guides them to a rounded booth despite being a party of two. He’s got such good manners asking the waitress if it’s okay to sit there. She insisted they’re fine because people don’t usually come in large bunches this early in the day (nine in the morning surprisingly, because of that late night prior).

“I have a bit of good news.” Shawn comments after they’ve ordered — the full platter of all essential breakfast foods, which they’ll be sharing. 

“Tell me!” Harrys good at being happy for others, even if he could care less, but he displays his happiness this time rather genuine, just so real. 

“We never really talked too much about our lives before. Do you really want to hear, or are you just being nice?” Shawn teases, butting Harry’s shoulder with his.

It’s all true, that they’ve never really talked before. They’ve only discussed their schedule — a balance of work and school. But harry doesn’t really know anything about him besides the fact that he doesn’t believe in soulmates. They probably could change this, now that Harry doesn’t really have anyone else to talk to. Not that Shawn is a second choice, but because there’s just more time now without having the need to Zayn so often or take care of Syl.

“I care. Please go on. Maybe we have to work on this whole communicating thing.” Harry announces. Even with the groceries, they sort of just buy their own things and separate the pantry. If they’re sharing a bed now, the night as well be a little closer with everything in the lines of their home, outside of the bedroom.

“I agree.” Shawn grins and it’s so bright, it might make Harry’s eyes hurt a bit. Shawn continues despite the weird expression on Harry’s face of over smiling back at him, “I got a bit promoted you could say. And I was wondering if you’d model for me.” 

“Oh, from your photography side job?” Harry asks. This is good news, for the both of them actually.

 “Some more exposure on my end, yours too I guess. You’ve got such a pretty face, Harry.” Harry’s blush is obvious, bright and red. He knows because Shawn likes at his cheeks and brings a spoon over to him.

He’s never been complimented too much (from guys at least). Never had boys at school really talk to him because where he came from, being gay wasn’t much of a thing. Regular guys at school wouldn’t just call Harry cute, if anything they’ve given good words towards his mind or clothes. And if people did have a thing nice to say about his looks perhaps, they knew he was dating an older man — meaning, nobody ever complimented his facial attributes.

“So how does this work? Your promotion.” Harry says, ignoring the little comments from Shawn prior to the topic change.

“If I can take good photos of you, I could get my first solo shoot for our next client. I only ever really did cheap events on my own, or sometimes setting up with another photographer.” Shawn says enthusiastically.

Harry smiles, fond of Shawn’s happy nature for his hobby, and curious to know more, “What project would you be up for if we quality?”

“A wedding.” Shawn sing songs. He scoots closer to Harry and whispers, “For soulmates.”

“Okay, and why do you feel the need to just rub it in my face? That either, I don’t have a soulmate, or that you’re going to a soulmates wedding and it seems so cool and I’ve never been to one!” Harry exasperates, a bit out of shock, but to evident that he’s just being a tease.

“I am allowed a plus one. I was implying that you should be my date to it.” Shawn rolls his eyes, and Harry likes the banter between them.

“Where did you imply it?”

“When I whispered and put my hand on your lap, duh.” Shawn says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It’s so silly of him, and it’s what makes Harry conclude that they could be really great friends, who sleep together occasionally, and — oh, right — are going to a soulmates wedding together that Harry’s always wanted to attend.

 

♡

 

As for breakfast, it gets a little messy with Shawn and Harry sharing one large plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs and sausages but it comes to a point where Shawn just leans back and has Harry feed him spoonfuls.

During lunch, they’re walking around more of downtown, stopping by the public shops welcoming them in with shiny things obvious from the large doors. Harry ends up getting a fruit tart pastry that he also feeds Shawn too, and Shawn gives Harry his hoodie in exchange.

Dinner rolls by with the sun nearly setting, and the air not blowing but a shivering coolness. They’re still in downtown, and because it’s technically still winter during the end of February, they opt on hot chocolate late after ice skating.

The day is _like_ an endless, fairytale date. Albeit, _it is_ a perfect day when they settle with microwave food in front of the television and a shared blanket over both their laps.

 

♡

 

About a week later, Shawn is still sticking to his word — cutting work hours and managing time better to be around Harry. He’s spending less time doing extra hours at food service, and bringing photography work to complete at home. (It’s also because Harry is paying for rent with him, so there’s no need for Shawn to get extra now because they’re both living decent, as for photography, Harry rewards him with head after photoshopping clients’ pictures for the final product.)

Busying up on school work together is a good balance for the both of them, especially. Harry sits on the barstools and does work until Shawn is back from his classes. Shawn doesn’t have much to do, ever really, also being that this is his last semester and he’s done. Harry gets some support from Shawn, claiming that he’s learned this before. It’s just good to spend time together even over such things as homework.

“What’s one thing you’d change about the night we had?” Shawn asks suddenly, running his finger along Harry’s arm. “I think I could of been better if I’m being honest.”

Harry’s smile falters and he has the urge to cup Shawn’s jaw to just look at him and reassure him. But he’s not Zayn; Zayn needs that. Shawn — he doesn’t know. Harry settles with just looking in his direction and it appears Shawn’s already fixated on him, “Not change, but an addition. I just wish you would of kissed me. It didn’t have to be my lips, you know. But like... love bites.”

“What are those?” Shawn tilts his head, resembling a puppy waiting for it’s treat after performing a trick, or a child wondering why two people are kissing clothes-less on the screen. Either way, Harry is happy to see Shawn looking so soft and curious.

Harry makes a temerarious approach when he gets on his feet and inches between Shawn’s legs, needing to spread his knees a bit before positioning himself in between them. He nuzzles his face against Shawn’s neck before puckering his lips out and planting on chastely on Shawn’s two little freckles.

There’s no sign of dismissal, so Harry continues. He pecks Shawn’s neck a few times before transitioning to little nips here and there, content with Shawn’s breath becoming tight and quick. He goes all out, finally open mouth kissing around his collarbone. Somewhere along Shawn’s neck vein a bit to the right of the vertical stream, gets Shawn breathing heavier. Harry settles with that spot and begins a pattern of sucking and licking and kissing.

“Yeah, I get it now.” Shawn breaths out, something in the middle of a moan and squeal. His voice is as high as a chew toy, making Harry giggle against his neck, and that makes Shawn groan and tug at Harry’s curls, pulling him closer if that’s possible.

However, the moment doesn’t last long because there’s a knock startling the two of them. With the suddenness, it makes Harry tense up and lean forward, almost having Shawn topple off the barstool.

“You good?” Shawn says with his hands around Harry’s waist, “Who is it anyways? Have a clue?”

There’s no need to secretive about this but he isn’t sure if Shawn would be too keen on the the fact that, well, Harry admits, “About that... I invited Niall over.”

“Well I’ll be in my room. Have fun.” Shawn scoots his barstool and it makes a creaking nose.

Before Shawn can completely erase himself from the view, Harry wraps his arms around Shawn’s body almost like a koala, “Shawn! No. Please. I was hoping you guys would make up and be good friends again.”

“We’re not telling him about us.” Shawn says and heads towards the door.

Harry doesn’t want anyone to know, like at all. But it sounds a bit harsh, so he agrees simply, “That’s fine. I like it between us anyways.”

None of them really make the initiative to open the door, so Harry hollers, “One second, No!”

“He doesn’t know you’re here. He asked. So that means he’s still upset. I think you need to apologize off the bat.” Harry enlightens, then lathers Shawn’s jaw with a few kisses.

Harry looks through the people hole just for certainty before swinging the door open and hauling Niall in by the wrist. “Afternoon, Niall! Was hoping we could make mini cheeseburgers today. And oh, look who’s here because of his day off!”

“Is it Zayn?” Niall grins and when he turns around, it immediately becomes the opposite. For Harry, too. He wasn’t expecting to just hear that name out of the blue, and now he has to explain to Niall how they aren’t together anymore.

“I’ll leave you two alone and start grilling!” Harry says in this overly cheerful voice. He’s awful at hiding things he shouldn’t know. It just happens. He gets peppy for no particular reason and often finds the dumbest excuse to evacuate.

Even in the distance he hears Niall groaning out in a whisper-not-really- whisper, “Hazz knows?”

Harry prepared the ground beef with seasoning then molds them into little ball shape just so he can use some kitchen spatula to smash them into flat pieces. They’re a couple things he recently learned from Zayn because Syl likes them, even if she really shouldn’t be eating out and seasoned food like that so young, already.

On the stove they go, but Harry still hears a little of Niall and Shawn over the sizzling. It’s all that Shawn already told Harry, so it’s nothing that gives the atmosphere a little entertainment. But when he hears Niall laugh, things must be good. He sees so too through the breakfast bar.

“Hi, does anyone want to help make homemade fries now?” Harry says, eyes on Shawn and Niall who had just finished shaking hands. He doesn’t really know what they concluded with but it’s positive and it’s all that matters (that his only two friends are friends).

“Yeah! I will. Thanks for having me. Smells good already.” Niall nudges his chin to the kitchen. He takes a seat across from where Harry is behind the counter, offering to slice some potatoes.

Shawn is turning on a holiday film, even if it’s not Christmas or snow season in this city, but if Harry learned anything about Shawn, it’s that he loves movies like this. So they both let him play it, even if they did refuse.

“So where’s Zayn?” Niall says suddenly in the midst of Harry assisting Niall cut some potatoes and putting them into a silver bowl with fries seasoning.

Harry shouldn’t lie, but he had never really come to that whole reality of the situation to be truthful to himself yet. He just shrugs, “Couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, it’s okay. More for us.” Niall laughs.

Shawn squeezes Harry’s shoulder and slides him over to grab two bottles of beer — which doesn’t usually get enough attention because Harry doesn’t drink, and Shawn just likes to keep it for company. “Here, Niall. Wanna go outside for a bit?”

“I’ve always loved your guys view more than mine!” Niall cheers and prances off, closing the door behind him.

Shawn turns back to Harry and fivers at some of the curls by his cheek, “You’ll be okay with all of this? Not just what you said to Niall. But in general, Zayn?”

“I’m not okay, yet. I will be.” Harry says, lips tight because he doesn’t know if this is the time to smile, but it takes a lot of muscle to frown.

 

♡

 

Harry serves Niall and Shawn outside, mini burgers and fries. But he’s not that nice, he makes them get back inside the apartment to get condiments and vegetables if they want because he doesn’t plan on getting them that much.

It’s darker outside now with the clouds grey. Looking over the rail while nibbling on his beef patty wrapped in lettuce. He thinks he sees Zayn’s car in the parking lot. Blinking repetitively, it’s not his car. He wouldn’t know what to do if it was.

“Hey, Niall?” Harry says above a whisper.

“Bud.”

“Introduce me to some of your friends.” It’s not that Harry wants to move on, he doubts he will, but he thinks he could use a couple other acquaintances to get his mind off things.

 

♡

 

Being taken back to the last place he’s seen Zayn (technically), his heart and head holds ton of different emotions.

Harry ignores any flashbacks of that day that threaten occur. He just ticks himself closer to Shawn’s body and allows himself to be fed different seafoods.

It’s quite interesting, and funny even, how he and Shawn just became close like that with one measly interaction. All it took was one fuck for Harry to have the friendship with his roommate that he’s always wanted. They feed each other for goodness sakes, and show more PDA than a regular couple would — only, they don’t actually kiss each other’s lips. They never really kissed yet. It’s like a silent agreement than kissing would lead to more than friendship and sleeping together.

But right now, with Shawn being barely inches away, he thinks he just might. He wants to kiss Shawn. It might be because his lips are tingling from the foreign food. It really could be from the way Shawn is feeding him and wiping the side of his lip. It’s definitely not from feelings. He doesn’t like Shawn, he might love him but it’s all platonic.

“Is it bad that that I might want to kiss you right now?” Harry says absentmindedly. He isn’t thinking because he’s too lost in Shawn’s eyes. It’s a light brown he’s never noticed before, almost like honey.

“Very bad. We shouldn’t in public.” Shawn teases, but he still manages to pull Harry in with an arm around him and pecking his forehead open mouth, intentionally all wet.

“I’ll have you know I really am an exhibitionist.” Harry pokes at him.

Shawn shakes his head, with a frown. And Harry’s gone thinking he’s done something wrong. But it’s not that bad when Shawn warns, “Don’t need to know.”

Harry gets it. He replies with a smug tone because the atmosphere was nice and he wants to maintain that, “Neither do I. But I’ve been there before, and I do plan on going back.”

“Tell me what you did.”

“I am not dirty talking you in public!”

Shawn is really good for him. He doesn’t remember bantering this humorously in so long. Between he and Zayn, they flirted, and fucked, and Zayn only pretended to laugh at Harry’s jokes. With Shawn, he sort of gets all of the above, and more.

 

♡

 

They’ve slept together three times in all since they’ve started doing whatever this is. The most recent interaction was minutes after Harry had prepared a meal for his mum and sister for today. Harry curled himself over the counter while Shawn was racking his hips forward, making it a challenge to see how quick they can come — which usually would be a shameful thing, but Harry was quite proud and not surprised that he finished within a couple minutes. It was the way Shawn’s face was nested in the crook of Harry’s neck, and how tight his grip was around Harry’s hips, that an occurring bruise would remain as a memory.

Anne and Gemma are coming over for the first time and they really don’t know about Shawn — not even Zayn. They don’t know what’s over, they don’t know what’s been created. Harry doesn’t plan on saying anything because he’s letting his heart break (not pride) get the best of him. Sure it would feel awful for Gemma to say _I told you so_ , but it’s more uncanny to have to break the news to his mum that they’ve ended so soon

Harry has visit them multiple times within the month and a few weeks that he’s been living with Shawn, but hasn’t seen them at all since the break up. He never really had any emotions over it, never felt the need to cry to his mum or sister about it. He’s fine enough crying in his own bed, or on Shawn’s shoulder, and has gained a few hand jobs to steer away the sad feelings.

While they’re shaping up the house a bit — because Shawn had said Harry festered a little touch of his own personality around the house — before Harry’s family arrives, he mentions, “My family doesn’t know Zayn and I are over. So don’t be obvious, okay?”

“Harry. It’s been like three weeks?”

“I’m packing away his things right now. Promise.” Harry tells, already thinking about how he’ll have to shove this box in the back of his closet — because he’s got tons of Zayn’s letters and other city souvenirs ad stuffed animals even some of Syl’s clothing.

Harry wonders if Syl ever thinks about him. It’s probably best he left earlier because Syl will forget about him eventually. But even in just the beginning and more than likely, they’ve both agreed to remain friends. He’ll have to sort things out soon, because he might be ready. He thinks he might miss Syl more than Zayn.

He just feels it when he’s holding a flowery bib of hers saying _i got my looks from my daddy_ , which at that point, Harry used to tease Zayn, calling him that nickname and he’d wear it shamelessly.

So maybe he cries a bit while he packs. Tears fall harder and quicker than they had before. He knew it would happen, it’s why he always prevent himself from gathering all of Zayn’s items off his bookshelf. He brought all of it from home, even though his mum said he could leave it in his childhood home. Now he has to best with taking it all down and putting into a large clear bin with a lid, shoving it into his closet and throwing all his shoes over it (because he doesn’t have a shoe rack yet and that’s the only place available where he won’t have to visit all the time.

“Harry?” Shawn knocks on the doorframe. Harry doesn’t look in the direction of his voice. He just crouches down from where he stood, burying his face into his knees that are tucked against his chest. Harry feels pathetic because he really is and only feels worse when Shawn’s breath hitches, “Fuck, Harry. Come on.”

“My mum is going to come here any minute. She’ll know. I won’t have to say a thing.” Harry cries out, wiping at his cheeks, which only makes things worse because his wet tears smear all over his face with snot webbing on his hair.

“It’ll be okay. Come here.” Shawn squats down next to him, stretching his legs out and Harry feels himself being pulled into the gap between Shawn’s thighs. “Work with me, Harry. You’re so heavy.”

“Shut up.” Harry pouts, hitting at Shawn’s chest but he only feels more weak. He ends up sobbing harder, to the point where his breath is hitching all on its own and he can’t control his breathing pattern.

“Remember what you wanted a few days ago? But we never got to it yet?” Harry shakes his head in response because Shawn is too vague right now and Harry can’t think straight because Shawn’s eyes are beaming so bright as he’s staring down at Harry, making him feel more vulnerable.

It happens before Harry can comprehend it. Shawn’s lips are against his and as usual, Harry gets the same impression of something so gentle and sweet. He kisses back because it’s like he’s chasing for this spark he feels between their lips, it’s probably on Shawn’s tongue and he wants it. There’s something between them that feels more than amazing and Harry wants more. He leans forward into the kiss and drapes his arms over Shawn’s shoulders.

Shawn’s laughing against his lips and Harry’s the one to pull away because Shawn just keeps laughing and won’t kiss back. Harry sighs, looking away from Shawn, “What?”

“You taste all salty. Look at your runny nose.” Shawn coos, using Harry’s sleeve to wipe.

Shawn drops his head against Harry’s and Harry doesn’t hesitate to peck him several times more. Mostly because he tastes like the spaghetti sauce that Harry didn’t get eat yet, but also because Shawn’s lips are too plump and missing that rugged look he’s just so used to. It’s so foreign.

Now Harry’s sighing again, with this ache in his chest like rubber bands snapping against it. “I love him a lot. I love my family. I should tell them. I should of told Niall, even. To prepare myself more. You’re the only one to know. Why?”

“Maybe we’re soulmates.” Shawn says in a way where he’s singing the word _soulmates_. Reminds him of October and people mimicking ghouls. _Sooouuul-maaatesss._

Harry still has been covering up his soulmates mark _._ Getting out the shower, he slips on his briefs too fast. When he’s having a wee, he covers it with his forearm. He never checked, doesn’t feel like ever checking.

“Like you care about soulmates.” Harry murmurs. He grabs hold of Shawn’s cheeks and molds them with his palm, squishing his face together so that Shawn’s lips are pursed out. He sucks on his bottom lip and licks at it before releasing his cheeks just to kiss him hard and deep.

“With kisses like that, I don’t mind pretending to be soulmates.”

“Are you implying that you want a relationship with me?” Harry asks genuinely. But he also - he doesn’t know how to feel about the answer that might surface.

“I think I love you, Harry. But not like that. Don’t worry.” Shawn sets his hands on Harry’s waist beneath his shirt in a way oh so comforting, “Besides, you just got out of one. You need all of this energy and happiness carrying just yourself up. Don’t need to worry about anyone else for now, alright?”

Harry scoffs, soft and jokingly of course, “If that’s your way of letting me down easy —“

“Do you like me, Harry?”

“Sometimes I think so. But then again, you’re basically the only person I’ve been spending my time with. You’re the only person I’ve been intimate with after my first and only relationship. I don’t know what this is.” Harry answers truthfully because it’s what he feels. There’s no extreme amounts of butterflies in his belly or anything like that. He’s just easily, and mostly always, happy around Shawn.

“Am I what you feel with Niall and his other friends you’ve met? Or am I how you feel with any crush before? Is it like Zayn?” Harry thinks about Shawn’s collection of questions.

Niall’s like an older brother to him. He’s never met Niall’s friends yet, there hasn’t been — not time — but he’s been lazy to interact with new people despite knowing he needs a change. Crushes didn’t exist much until he met Zayn. They were just little swoons here and there and a discovery of his sexuality, but that was it. As for Zayn, nobody will ever compare to him. Harry almost wants to slap Shawn for comparing any feeling to the way he felt _with and for_ Zayn.

Shawn is all of the above. Butterflies and swoons — yet gentle and platonic.

The door bell rings before Harry could come up with a response. It sort of feels like it doesn’t stop ringing. There’s just something chiming in his head, right in his ears and he knows it’s not he door bell. He just wishes he knew some of the answers.

“It’s fine if you like me.” Shawn whispers but Harry doesn’t acknowledge it. He stands up, away from the comfort of Shawn’s lap. Because the thing is, it’s not okay to like Shawn. He can’t do it, can’t just go into this already. And Shawn doesn’t even like him, he said so himself. Does Harry even... like him?

Harry just opens the door gently to greet the two favorite women in his life. Anne embraces him tight and above her shoulder he sees two figures — which he shouldn’t be because it should only be Gemma in the place behind her.

“Missed you so much, dear.” Anne is saying as she squeezes and shakes him from side to side.

He blinks away any tears, and that’s when he remembers how much of a mess he is. He lets go and wipes at his face but Gemma is grabbing at him. It’s short, he needs it to be quick so he could cleanse himself for whatever seconds he has left before _he_ actually looks at him.

Harry turns around, away from his loved ones by the door, and uses the sleeves of his sweater to absorb the remaining tears. Looking up, he sees Shawn standing with his jean jacket on, seeming taller and fit than usual. He whispers, “I never said I wouldn’t, Harry.”

“Where are you going?” Harry demands in a voice that is cracking when Shawn begins walking towards the door. “You’re supposed to meet my mum and my sister. You’re just going because what? Of what I said? Are you embarrassed of what you might of confessed, or what I did?”

“I told you I don’t care what happens for either option. It’s pointless right now. Just spend time with your family.” Shawn laughs hysterically, shoving past Harry, and pass Zayn.

Harry crosses his arms. He doesn’t know what’s fueling this sudden irrelevant anger. Maybe it’s Shawn being so confusing, maybe it’s Zayn standing here with a dumb perplexed look, it could just be the timing overall. Harry clears his throat, “Come back. Come back or I’ll — I’ll lock you out of the house.”

“Niall’s place is right here, isn’t it?” Shawn scoffs and those are his final words. He doesn’t bother to turn back around in the hallway.

Harry gets inside and nearly closes the door but it’s being pushed open, by Zayn. He didn’t mean to close it on him, he just forgot. The only thing on his mind was wanting Shawn to stay with him, even if he was begging nearly on his knees.

“What was that?” Gemma says with a laugh and a clap — like she’s a damn happy seal but nothing about it is cute or silly.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Harry sighs and gestures they further into the home, asking them to line up their shoes by the front door.

Harry takes a deep breath and opens the curtains a bit more for a more brighter atmosphere his home. He ignores the concern looks on the three significant faces, choosing to announce, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

He goes back to Gemma and hugs her a bit longer because of the sudden disconnection prior. He whispers that he’s sorry. But at this point he’s not sure who he’s apologizing to. It just feels necessary.

There’s a quick apartment tour before they decide to eat together, and do whatever else people do when their visiting their family and all.

It’s when Harry is by the kitchen fetching four plates to bring over to the dining table. His mother is gathering some forks and nudging at his hip with her elbow, “Aren’t you going to say hi.”

Harry follows her eyed to where Zayn stands a bit dazed against the kitchen wall. He’s just standing there. Harry gets it over with and mumbles out, “Hi.”

“Should we not have invited him? Whoops.” Gemma says with a laugh. She’s making this whole tense environment fun and harry doesn’t know whether to thank her or shout about how she’s doing everything wrong.

“We’re fine.” Zayn comments. His eyes avert to Harry’s and maybe he melts under it because he hasn’t seen him in so long — it’s only been two weeks or so — but the flutter of his lashes just gets to him.

“Good.” Harry says, to all of them, not just Zayn.

Over the dinner table, Anne asks about why she hasn’t gotten a call on Harry swooning over his soulmates mark. He tells her he doesn’t care about it anymore. Even if he doesn’t like lying to his mum.

 

♡

 

Zayn is gripping his arm in the middle of him washing dishes before he could refuse. He takes Harry to the balcony and shuts the sliding door to prevent Harry’s family from hearing as they’re sitting around the living room with a glass of wine with reality television on.

“I needed to see you.” He whispers out, sounding completely desperate and vulnerable. Harry only feels a tiny fraction of guilt, maybe even more when Zayn sighs, “Were supposed to be mates. Supposed to be mature about this. And from the phone call invitation, you haven’t even told your family.”

“It’s not easy. I let you slip away.” Harry confesses as he looks out at the skyline. Counting cars relieves him the slightest bit from this whole confrontation.

“You didn’t. But if you keep handling things the way you’ve been, you might as well. But not me. I didn’t let you slip away. We can go back to before and still be close. Doesn’t have to be like this.” Zayn’s so distant, even if he isn’t that far away. He just needs to be closer some how, but Harry isn’t sure if that’s what he wants.

Harry doesn’t have a response. He doesn’t look in Zayn’s direction. Merely trying to count but he can’t anymore because his vision is blurry with wet tears. Zayn sighs and hesitantly puts an arm around his shoulder, Harry just feels the shakiness. It’s just what Harry wants, the warmth of his favorite body around him, albeit it misses the comfort and familiarity it usually holds.

But Zayn’s closer than ever and it feels good for Harry. Maybe it’ll be easier for Harry to just have initial responses. It’s not as stressing some how, when Zayn continues, “Now what the reason was earlier? And what’s it now? I’m telling you I’m not going anywhere. But you can’t hear that or something. So is there something else you’re upset about?”

“I missed Syl. A lot.” Harry tells with a soft voice. It’s a beat then he clears his throat, “But that’s like, the thing. In this world, I don’t get to have her. I don’t get to have you. Because we’ve got soulmates. And we’re supposed to be with them the moment we find out who we belong to. You don’t belong to me. Don’t you get it?”

Zayn nods, “Yeah. I do, but why does it matter when we already love each other.”

Something goes off again in Harry’s system as he snaps with an incredulous laugh, “So what, you don’t believe in them anymore. All of a sudden?”

“I do. It’s just hard because I’m looking for you in all the wrong places. Louis’ not bad at all. I just keep expecting you but it’s him. I don’t know what to do.” Zayn’s doing that thing where he scratches at his neck a little too rough, and Harry knows it’s when he’s gone antsy — lost for words and any idea what to do. It’s his instinctive action he goes to when he’s nervous and confused. Harry pities him, but not that much because Harry feels the same.

“I don’t either.” It’s the simplest thing Harry says all day.

Zayn steps away from Harry, it’s cool now — his whole left side — and he longs for the security he just felt because now being on this balcony with Zayn’s heavy stomps scares him. He’s pacing in a circle that might burn a hole through all the stories and Harry’s a bit too close to the edge that it’s getting him queasy.

“I’m not saying we should date again. I mean I think we should. But I don’t want to ruin your whole fantasy of soulmates. So I’m sticking with mine, show you that it’s all you’ve ever imagined. Even if it’s going to shit right now because I keep thinking about you.” It’s silent because it’s all Harry’d ever wanted to hear the last few weeks — that Zayn’s happy, yet so miserable because the root of his happiness should be from Harry instead.

Zayn’s toes meet Harry’s toes. They’re close again and Harry shudders because he can already feel Zayn’s warmth radiating towards him, “I’m just asking for a friendship still. I watched you grow up from a teenager to an adult, basically. You really can’t leave me hanging off a cliff. I need to see who you’ll end up with. Need to know the whole story of your life because I’ve already got the beginning.” Zayn reaches out for Harry’s cheek and he doesn’t flinch, just sinks into it. Zayn invades all of Harry’s space now so that his breath fans against Harry’s lips, “Someone’s going to have the ending, that I won’t get. But I’ll have you tell it to me.”

Harry can’t resist his lips, but knows it’ll ruin anything if he gets a taste. He backs away an inch and breaths out a content sigh, all different from the ones he’s made within the last hour, “I promise.”

“Yes? Yes. Fuck, Haz.” Zayn’s lunges forward — as if there are any gaps between them — securing Harry in the tightest hug he’s ever received from Zayn. It’s definitely air constricting, but feeling this breathless feels good because even though Zayn takes his breath away with the many things he does, it only makes him feel more alive.

“It’s cold. We should go inside.” Harry says after a pregnant pause, but Zayn’s chin is still hooked over his shoulder. He caresses the back of Zayn’s neck a bit before retracting like opposite magnets.

Where the heater is on low, the temperature feels way different than the outside but he thinks he’d rather freeze with Zayn than to live with a working heating system.

“We’ve got to get going. Gems got a call for a last minute workshop.” Anne announces, patting Harry’s cheek multiple as if he’s trying to warm it up.

Gemma pats his bum with a, “Bye, Hazza.” It makes him tense up because he was rather good all day about hiding the ache and keeping his hisses to a minimum but that just ruined his streak a bit.

Anne and Gemma all exchange hugs with him but Zayn remains sitting at the bar stool with his elbow perched on the counter and his legs spread invitingly. Harry doesn’t want to think about any of that.

Even Harry’s mum notices Zayn’s frozen posture, not making a move to dismiss himself from the apartment. She asks curiously when they’re by the door, “Coming Zayn?”

Zayn waves, “Just a minute.”

Barely as Harry’s closing the door, he hears a faint murmur between the lovely women in his life, _their boyfriend goodbye kisses mum_.

“You’re leaving with them.” Harry mentions, pointing over his shoulder towards the door.

Zayn shrugs, with this grin that Harry hates because Zayn makes his sly face when he gets ideas — most in which aren’t really good ones. Zayn says smoothly, “Keep up the act going. Make it more believable. I’m staying the night.”

“No.” Harry refuses.

Zayn busies himself on his phone and Harry assumes he’s already confirming his stay to Anne.

“Your roommate isn’t here.”

Harry can’t believe Zayn would say such a thing, especially on behalf of their discussion moments ago. He crosses his arms and speaks boldly, “I’m not doing a thing with you.”

“When have I ever made you do something you didn’t want? It’s not what I’m —“ Zayn sounds awfully offended, leading him to take a deep breath before going on, “You’re alone. You won’t be able to sleep in an empty loft with just yourself. Let me hold onto you a little longer.”

“Go back home to Louis.” Harry doesn’t mean to push him away, but he at least knows what’s best for the both of them.

Zayn laughs and gets off the stool, he’s reaching for Harry’s wrist, which Harry allows, “I’ve never even slept with him yet, let alone haven’t even let him just sleep over.”

“Fine. Only for tonight.” Harry says, guiding them to his bedroom. He stops for a second, “And.” Harry turns around to face Zayn, looking directly into his honey shaded eyes, “We have our own sheets.”

Inching through the door and shutting it, he’s a little startled when Zayn hovers over him once again, pressing his body against Harry’s, “I missed you a lot, babe.”

“I feel the same way.” Harry breathes out, pushing Zayn back a bit. He then falls onto his bed with a good sigh, patting a space for Zayn, which he accepts. Harry’s surprised that Zayn doesn’t make a move to inch closer, just lingering at the edge.

“Tell me.” Zayn says with his back facing Harry. With the sight, Harry doesn’t feel the need to. It’s pointless when Zayn’s attention isn’t on him anyways.

Harry soon figures a few seconds later, what’s been on Zayn’s mind for him to be in Harry’s bedroom and not look at him. Zayn’s eyes wander before commenting, “Where’s all of my stuff?”

“I put it all away today. Was going to tell my mum about us. But you showed up.” Harry picks up his pillow to reveal the one thing he didn’t store away — a silver rose ring he’s received from Zayn after their six months when they celebrated it on a beach and Harry nearly lost it the first hour when he tried to get Zayn into the water. As Zayn turns to him, he tosses it in his direction and the ring bounces off his chest, making them both simper a bit.

A moment later Zayn says, “Do you regret that? Keeping it a secret.”

“Maybe that part. But I don’t regret you coming over, leading up to the extension of our closeted break up.” Harry replies truthfully, leaning against his headboard.

“Why? Why do you do that.” Zayn laughs, referring to the vocabulary Harry had used. He inches up higher onto the bed and plops his head into Harry’s lap. “Always make something serious seem okay.”

Harry just giggles and instinctively runs his fingers through Zayn’s hair, tugging a bit then soothing it out. He reaches for his laptop on the end table to display a film, because that’s what friends do when they share a bed, they watch movies together. _I think it’s what they do._

Zayn looks up, his lashes caress his cheekbones. He looks all soft, resembling Bambi with his albums eyes. He thumbs at Harry’s jaw before whispering, “Are you going to —“

“Tell me.” Harry coos, “You first.”

“I still love you.” Zayn shifts off of Harry’s legs, and crosses his legs to bring to his chest. Harry’s getting a beautiful sight of him, all beneath the dim lighting where his strongest features cast shadows against other attributes of his pretty face. He takes hold of Harry’s left hand and slips the rose ring onto his finger.

“Love you, too.” Harry whispers without hesitance.

Zayn groans and drops his head down, “Oh, come on. Don’t say _too_. It’s like you have to say it. Do you think you have to?”

“Shut up, you twat.” Harry shouts, but he does it without scorn and on the contrary, he lunges forward and pampers Zayn with kisses. It’s impossible to resist Zayn’s lips while kissing every single inch of his face, so he plants one quick peck. One that Zayn ends up devouring, leaving Harry panting, “I love you, so, so much. Always, you know?”

 

♡

 

It feels like midnight now, Harry wouldn't know because he only surrounded himself with the low murmurs of the film while drowning in Zayn's whispers instead. They just talked and talked until their limbs — arms draped over each other, and legs together with cold heels — tangled together.

Zayn's asleep, and Harry never liked when he was way too exhausted from the day, not bothering to undress and find something comfortable. Like he used to do for Zayn, he's cautious to unbuckle his belt and leave him in his briefs. He goes over to his closet with all of Zayn's belongings he's hid in the back and gathers the heating blanket, but then shakes his head. He decides they don't need it. He would rather undress too and just sleep in the comfort of both their of their body warmth combined.

Harry does just that, crawling back in bed with him. 

 

♡

 

There’s a rustling noise coming from outside. Sleep felt better than most nights because there’s a snug arm around his waist and heavy breathing against his shoulder. He’d love to just stay in, but the sounds of intruding disturbs him.

It’s more than likely to be Shawn anyways, but it’s the perfect time to scold him and interrogate with an abundance of harsh and concerning questions.

So he carefully escapes from Zayn’s arms which he professionalizes in because he used to sneak away in mornings for school, or to make breakfast, or even to check on Syl to let him have extra sleep. Occasionally, he’d have a hard time because Zayn would only pull him closer. Today he manages simply, probably because he hasn’t had a body to hold in so long that isn’t Syl — Harry hopes (well, Zayn confirmed yesterday, so Harry has nothing to worry about).

Shutting his food gently, Shawn’s voice alarms him, “Hey. I brought apology breakfast.”

“What is it?” Harry flickers his eyes to a pink large box that is only lifted with one hands. To make thing straight, Harry isn’t, and Shawn’s hands will probably be the death of him — of course, if this confusing heart break doesn’t kill him first.

Speaking of which, Harry neglects his own question and asks another, “Why’d you just leave?”

“I wasn’t sure whether you were trying to tell me if you liked me or not. I didn’t really want to make things awkward if you did. Because I told you I don’t want a relationship. Then I saw Zayn and it would be been even more weird. I couldn’t sit at the same table with your family and the guy you’re pining for.” Shawn admits, his voice more direct than usual, he really isn’t circling around things.

Harry only wants to reciprocate the same response, so he does, “I was upset with the way you were just trying to pry it out of me like I knew. Just minutes before, I was crying over my ex and you just made me answer if I liked you?”

Shawn pokes Harry’s chest and because Harry’s a morning person, he manages to giggle at the nudge. He interlaces his hand with Harry’s and replies, “I’m sorry. It felt right. We were joking about soulmates. And you continued it.”

Looking over his shoulder, he remembers Zayn is in his bedroom. He lowers his voice before announcing, “You got serious first. In the most direct way. Do you like me?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be feelings.” Shawn says.

“I don’t have any, I swear. I’m sorry if you do.” Harry puts his hand on Shawn’s arm and caresses it gently, letting Shawn down easy — if Shawn has any feelings. He wouldn’t know. As for himself, he concludes that from last night with Zayn, he doesn’t like Shawn. Maybe he could. But not anytime soon.

“I don’t. I love you, like a good friend. We sleep here and there. It’s all. And we’re so domestic. I think it’s a perk.” Shawn pulls Harry in for a hug, all as typical. He’s more broad and stronger, hovering over Harry in a nice way. But he thinks he’ll always prefer Zayn anyways.

When Harry pulls away first, his eyes set on the pink box on the counter. “So are these like, donuts? I hope not. I don’t like donuts. I prefer pastries with jam.”

“Shit. No. Sorry. They’re — yeah, donuts.” Shawn apologizes but takes a donut for himself with chocolate coating and chews on it sloppily. Already chocolate on his lip that Harry wants to just lick off.

But he feels like things are different now. Even if he’s nothing exclusive with Zayn, he doesn’t want to be intimate with Shawn at least not for a while anymore because Zayn hasn’t made any advances on his soulmate. It only feels right to do this.

“Zayn likes donuts.” Harry blurts out, probably because he was just thinking about Zayn — hell, he’s always thinking about him. Harry grabs a few and puts it on a plate, choosing the donuts with the toppings that he recalls Zayn purchasing at grocery shops and liquor stores.

Before he could walk to his bedroom, Shawn’s calling out, “Alright, no dwelling. Stop it, H.”

“He’s here right now.” Harry tells. “I’ll be right back. Thanks, again!”

When he gets to his bedroom, fumbling with the door knob because sticky fingers, Zayn is just laying and staring at the wall that faces the door. Harry fears for a second that he might of heard anything outside but remembers that these walls are surprisingly thick — it’s how he was allowed to bring Zayn over so many times, and Shawn mentioned he never noticed.

“Do you want some?” Harry slides the plate over to the night stand.

“In a bit.” Zayn yawns and tugs the blanket over his shoulder before asking, “Could you come back to bed?”

Harry doesn’t respond, but crawls onto the mattress and tucks himself into the sheets. He settles his head onto his pillow, and scoots just a little closer, being adjacent with Zayn.

“You were serious about never seeing your soulmates mark?” Zayn’s voice is so quiet like this is such a personal conversation. It sort of is. This intimate, secrecy between them feels good.

“Yes.”

Zayn shifts closer and Harry flinches the slightest when he feels Zayn’s thumb on his hip. He adds, “Would you be okay if I knew?”

The thing is, he’s always wanted Zayn to know. Always planned than on his birthday, Zayn would have a first look along with him. Technically Zayn could have, but they prolonged it until Zayn was no longer in the picture. This moment right now seems better than ever. It doesn’t take much for Harry to vocally allow him.

The warmth of the heating blanket is replaced with the coolness of the tiny bedroom. Zayn looks uncertain, as if he doesn’t know whether it would be alright to prop himself onto Harry’s lap or just sit next to him and lift his shirt up. Harry insists for him, “Just do it. Whatever way you’re alright with.”

Zayn nods, accepting the consent. And because Zayn is Zayn and Harry has loved him for several years, he isn’t surprised when Zayn spreads Harry’s legs and situates himself in between them, to where he props himself on his elbows just in between his thighs. His hand is open wide as it trails from Harry’s bare leg, towards the bottom hem of his shirt.

All this figurative love and affection just gets absorbed into Harry’s skin, and beneath into his veins every time Zayn trails his hands further up beneath his shirt. His they finger hooks at the material and Zayn takes a peak all fond like he’s admiring a sculpture at a quality museum.

But Harry can’t read his face. He doesn’t know what’s really behind this look. Zayn’s eyebrows are furrowed with a pout. Harry almost wants to lift him up from the under arms and let all of his weight fall on his chest and just kiss him. If it would make him feel better, because Harry utterly does not know this time around.

 Harry drawls out, exhausted from acknowledging the silence, “Do you know him?”

“Don’t know initials like that.” Zayn tries to smile but it’s faltering, “But it’s not mine so I don’t want to give a fuck about it. It’s almost like mine, but it isn’t.” He finally rolls his eyes, something Harry understands because he does that when he could care less — everybody does that, — but Zayn is the cutest doing it.

Before Harry could interfere with lame sympathy or curiosity, Zayn drops his head on Harry’s stomach and his voice tickles against his belly button when he says, “Subject change. Please.”

“Alright. Up.” Harry comments and pats Zayn’s head. But Zayn makes no motive to move a muscle, if anything he shakes his head so that it leaves little scratches of his beard and nose ring against Harry’s skin. Harry pouts and cajoles in a sing-song manner, “I’ll make you that drippy, yolky egg sandwich. With real cheese.”

Zayn’s face comes into view when his head sky rockets up. He’s so curious as he asks, “What’s fake cheese?”

“The time we used spray canned cheese.” Harry cringes at the memory of Syl on overdose with that cheese, skipping off with the bottle while Harry was frantically trying to pry it out of her hands but was afraid she’d cry. Zayn got home just in time to coax her away from it and enjoy the meal — even if it wasn’t Harry’s ideal _drippy, yolky egg sandwich with cheese_.

Zayn bites Harry’s hip before pulling his shirt down all the way. He gets up and looks around again — nothing new, he’s always so curious. Then he finds his clothes folded on Harry’s dresser and says, “Thank you for that.”

Harry would reply something like _I know you_ , but decided against it and slips on house slippers instead. It’s obviously a bit cold, being the morning and the month of March, but Harry trots out in shorts anyways. He feels like he’s seeking for an indication that Zayn has interest in him still or not. His pondering is already evident, Harry knows, but he just craves attention anyways.

“Go and start up the stove.” Harry murmurs whole taking out ingredients.

Zayn hasn’t been here too many times but he’s practical, and finds the pan and spreads butter onto it. For a mere second, Harry thinks back to when he really wanted to live with Zayn and wake up with days like these.

“I said I would make it. So, don’t worry — don’t.” Harry nearly slips out the nickname _babe_ , but he knows better.

As Harry is patiently waiting for the eggs to cook as they sizzle on the pan, he adds mayonnaise onto the toasted bread with a little bit of black pepper. He keeps flickering his gaze towards Zayn in between his knife spreading the condiment.

Harry notices the way Zayn’s attention is fixated on the window — it’s a pretty sight he knows. He just lacks a reason for why Zayn would be giggling while perched against the glass, so he asks, “What’s so funny.”

“You don’t know?” Zayn glides his finger along the surface when Harry shakes his head. “January 25.”

“I don’t — “ Harry’s response dies in his throat when Zayn reaches for his hand and positions him to stand in front of the window. There’s a secure hand on his waist and the other resting on his left shoulder. It’s familiar, it’s how they always just are when they’re waiting for their fast food, or when they’re watching Syl in the park. He is unaware of the significance.

“You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” Zayn rests his chin in between Harry’s neck and shoulder, and inches closer to Harry’s body that his back is just too snug against Zayn’s chest. He starts planting innocent kisses against Harry’s neck — innocent because they’re tender and feel like the brush of a flower petal against skin.

Harry flutters his eyes shut, serene with the motions as he turns into a pool of his own lust for more when the chaste pecks become actual kisses. The memory comes to life when his cheek pressed against the window, and Zayn’s thickening behind him. He’s back to remembering the night where they’ve _celebrated_ Harry’s first _big boy step_. It was also one of his best nights with Zayn too, even if he couldn’t stay the night. He allows whatever that’s happening, to keep going because he craves for the memory to be reality. But some things just don’t completely happen the way Harry wants it to.

Harry can’t be greedy.

“Smells like something’s burning!” Shawn hollers, in more of a cheerful attitude.

Harry retracts away from the window and races back to where his eggs are too crisp for his delight, with a coating of coal. He groans out loud, dramatically at that, then plops the egg onto a layer of cheese that he set right after the mayonnaise.

“Here. You get the burnt one for doing that.” Harry pretends to sound angry and puts the plate onto the table where Zayn sits, all stupidly and acting oblivious with his shin on his knee, like he did nothing.

Zayn smirks and accepts the meal. Harry just proceeds to make another one and hopes that he doesn’t burn it this time, but the feeling of Zayn around him is still lodged in his head so he gets a bit distracted while frying two other eggs.

“You want one, right?” Harry asks Shawn who’s looking through the fridge.

“No, I ate my donut. Which you didn’t eat.” Shawn snarls teasingly, shoving at Harry. 

The seat over at the dining table squeaks suddenly. Harry looks to where Zayn is standing up, “Shit. Forgot those in the room.”

A gasp comes from Shawn, louder than the sizzling sound. All these sounds are just so damn peculiar he doesn’t know what to do besides continue watching his eggs.

But then Shawn’s voice is high, a whisper that isn’t such a whisper, “You can see that thick fucking outline. If that wasn’t your — ”

“Oh, be quiet.”

Shawn bites at his knuckles and then tales a bite out of the egg sandwich that Harry barely prepared. They share it like they’ve been doing lately. It’s just so natural.

Zayn back and announcing, “Didn’t want to attract ants.”

Harry sits next to Zayn at the dining table with a cup of orange juice. This is weird for Harry, to just of had an interaction with his ex boyfriend and share a drink with him, while his fuck buddy — who just ate most of his sandwich — is across not even that far away.

“Oh, I wanted to ask you something but then I fell asleep.” Zayn says. Harry nods. “Do you want to attend Syl’s party?”

“It’s not her birthday anytime soon. Is it?”

“Well, she’s been sick. And she’s getting better and I wanted to celebrate.” Zayn's eyes are bright, or maybe it's just Harry who always sees light bulbs glowing in Zayn's expression whenever they talk about Syl.

Harry juts his lip out, “If you would of texted me an invitation, I would of been there in a jiffy.”

Zayn sips on his orange juice before chuckling, “First of all, it didn’t even happen yet. And, no one says jiffy.”

“When?”

There is one last bite of Zayn's breakfast, but he doesn't eat it. He shoves it towards Harry's mouth instead, and he doesn't protest. It's what they'd do. Zayn always offers the rest of his meal to Harry before finishing it. He wipes the side of Harry's lip before answering, “End of March. The last Saturday of it. Like two weeks.”

Shawn intrudes, his voice seeming a bit rude and booming, “No. You can’t. That’s the wedding day.”

“But it’s Syl.” Harry says the same time Zayn says cluelessly, “Wedding?”

Harry directs his attention towards Zayn, “I’m supposed to be his plus one to a wedding he’s shooting at.” Then at Shawn, “Can’t you tell Niall?”

“I just thought you wanted to come with. You don’t have to.” Shawn gets up off his seat and throws away his napkin and grabs another donut — Zayn's, the one that Harry picked specifically for Zayn. Harry doesn't understand why it bothers him so much.

Two days in a row of confusion, too many decisions. It must be a record for Harry feeling so hopeless and uncertain, and it all started happening when he lost Zayn and found Shawn. But now they're both apart of his life at the same time. He refuses to just choose one of them because after all, he loves Zayn, but really enjoys the company of Shawn. Harry finalizes, “I can go to your party. I wouldn’t miss it. And I do want to go to the wedding. So I’ll go too. You guys have to give me the time here." 

"Three." They say simultaneously.

 

♡

 

The photoshoot consists of hasty comments like _look here_ or _say cheese_ , occasionally Shawn would compliment his features or overly praise him for doing an outstanding pose. For the most part it goes well, and then it’s perfect after Shawn submits the photos and he’s approved to take on the wedding project.

 

♡

  

Later in the same day, Harry does something compulsive. It’s not like he really has people to rely on, other than the people who are actually his problems.

Harry meets with Liam. The Liam that knows Niall, the Liam that lives in the apartment that Harry knows, only because he followed him there that one time. 

"So, why aren't you asking Niall?" Liam asks slow, with an even slower head nod. He slides the bag of garlic bread in Harry's direction. 

"Because there's a big part that Niall is missing out on. I can't tell him that either." Harry mentions because it's true. He's terrible keeping this away from his first actual real friend in the neigborhood. He excludes the breakup (with Zayn), and the arrangement (with Shawn) to Niall. Both are two crutial things that Niall should know about Harry's messy life, yet he doesn't.

"It could help if you told me too, man. You just —" Liam is right. Harry totally just, "Came in here unannounced screaming Shawn or Zayn, help. What's that even mean?"

Harry flashes him a timorous smile before accepting Liam's offer on the bread. just one half load he supposes. He wants to say it quick, as if he says it fast enough, he won't even be able to process it, "Zayn and I broke up, and Shawn and I are sleeping together. He actually slept with Niall once, and Niall — damn it, Niall — Niall thinks Zayn and I are soulmates and won't listen to me when I say we aren't. This would be the perfect timing to tell him that Zayn and I really aren't a happy ending but I don't want to upset him."

"Would you like some water?" Liam says with a small, a very small and subtle smile.

"Yes, please."

After they both situate themselves — meaning Harry's throat is no longer dry and Liam has finally wrapped his head around things — Liam offer's Harry a seat on the couch, rather than sitting stiff at the table. He doesn't turn on the television, but puts music on to a minimum.

"So, let me get this straight. You want to date them both?"

Harry's eyes widen as his mouth parts. He doesn't mean to raise his voice but it happens anyways, "No! I don't like Shawn like that. I'm waiting for my soulmate."

"Okay?"

It's like explaining something to a child. Liam is so incompetent. He's also Harry's only hope. Harry speaks slowly, "Get this. Zayn will be my first and only ex."

"Yes. But what does any of this have to do with like — what?" Liam says, crossing his legs and leaning forward. If he's playing the role of a perfessional therapist, he's doing a shit job.

Harry is about to pull at his curls from the deliemma, but then, "Oh, I forgot!" Harry sits up straight and mentions, "I didn't tell you why. Okay. I need to see whether I go to Zayn's event, or Shawn's."

"Easy. You're on good terms with your ex. Go with him." Liam shares, standing up to pat Harry's back, and if that's any signal to dismiss Harry, he isn't going anywhere.

"Yeah but, Shawn offered first. He's going to a wedding for soulmates. I've never been to one and I already gathered some questions I want to ask the newly weds!" There is a journal with a page regarding life before and after marriage, and what he should expect, and if there are any indications that he'll meet his soulmate soon, oh and when he and his soulmate should get married. He could ask any couple these questions, but he wants newly weds because there's a superstition on them being really good luck — something like that.

Liam sits back down with a groan, "Then go."

"You don't get it. Zayn's event is a celebration party for his daughter. She's getting stronger now, and she wants one. I am pretty sure she's relying on me to be there and all." Harry waves off the curls on his shoulders, only a hint of the fact that Louis would be there, but he knows Syl would be happy to see Harry no matter what.

"Flip a coin, Harry." Liam sighs, then he puts his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands, "No, ignore that. I don't even know you. I don't care what decision you make out of this. Just choose one that will make you happy."

"Both." Harry murmurs. "I need to support Zayn and Syl, but I need to meet the soulmates."

"That's your answer then. You didn't even mention Shawn in your reasoning. You only want to talk to the soulmates and shit. Get out and go text your boyfriend that you'll see him soon or something." Liam is up now and snatching a beer and trail mix. He stands by the entrance, eyes flickering back and forth from Harry to the door.

 

♡

 

Something comes into play, thankfully.

Harry readies himself for the wedding, while texting Zayn that he'll be there soon.

It turns out that he can balance two occasions in one day, four important things within a few hours. Today, he'll be with Zayn and Syl, then Shawn and the couple. Everything always some how works out for Harry and he doesn't get it. He considers that sometimes he should be less mopey and greedy, then more honest and reliable. (The greed stands for Zayn and Shawn, he's telling Shawn today that their arrangement is over for now because he and Zayn are on good terms and that thing would just interfere. Honesty is for his Niall and his women, he should tell Niall and Anne and Gemma about both situations with Zayn and Shawn.)

"Get out! We have to go now. Z wants me to stop by and get a cake." Harry shouts, banging on the bathroom door.

A second after, Shawn swings the door open with a grin, "Ooh, you guys are on nickname terms again." With the teasing, Harry nearly forgets the sight he beholds, but how could he. Shawn is suited up in a black coat with matching slacks, and Harry can't tell if his undershirt is formal or not but it does justice for Shawn because he looks so damn good. Harry might of wanted a go, with the suit on, but that's only if he had time —“ and if he didn't promise himself that he'd stop what they had.

"Let's just go." Harry says a bit breathlessly. He grabs his coat from the chair and drapes it over his arm, no intentions to wear it later. 

"Don't you think that's a bit...” Shawn doesn't really finish, but it doesn't take a complete sentense for Harry to know that it’s a nice way to introduce an aversion.

“A bit what? Shawn, say it.” Harry says sternly, getting into Shawn’s personal space. He’s chest to chest, anxious for a response because he’s totally kidding about being offended (Shawn looks apologetic).

“Flamboyant?” Shawn questions hesitantly.

Harry laughs, “Oh, big word there, buddy.” He cups in between Shawn’s legs before strutting off, already unaffected by whatever anyone might say about his outfit.

 

♡

 

To Harry’s dismay, the party is at an unknown location. He’s smarter than that. Smarter to know Zayn did not rent out some apartment pool house where parking accessibility is difficult. And he definitely did not do it at a park, because e’s always thought those were pathetic and not environmental friendly. Harry knows Zayn enough that whether he wanted it or not, Zayn accepted his soulmate's offer to do it at his place. 

Harry is absolutely correct when he and Shawn pull up towards a driveway that is obstructed with a tall black fence — something all fancy too, not just some silver metal or white pickets. Upon inching closer to the luxurious gate, it opens automatically, assumed that it's motion detected. (Probably for the event today because there is no way this guy has a gate and just lets anybody in.)

"Been here before?" Shawn asks with a tilted head in Harry's direction.

"No, but I can sense this is Louis' place." Harry pretends to yawn, tightening his grip around the boxed up cake on his lap because it feels like its the only thing he could get a grip on.

Harry isn't apprehensive of appearing at the party at all. He no longer fears to encounter Zayn or their history. It's the present and everything making up every little situation within the last few weeks that's killing him. He can't possibly enter the house of his ex-boyfriend's soulmate, despite the eager invitation he has received. Can't show up barely legal, being in the same air as someone with a medical degree in a big house, someone who has his other half now.

Before it could get overwhelming — more than it already is — there's a hand on his lap. Shawn's hand drawing comforting circles on his thigh with his longer fingertips digging into the inner side. "You've met him once. Nothing to be afraid of now."

"That's not the problem." Harry mumbles, then remains silent. There's a pile of problems toppling above his head, figuratively. But he doesn't want to make them seem too real, so he remains silent.

♡

It's silent from the walk out of the car, from the walk on the pavement that leads to the already open front door (which is yards long), and the moment he steps on this overly domestic and overly friendly welcoming mat, he decides that he can't do it.

Harry expects Shawn to be the one to take the cake from his hands and hold him, but it surprisingly isn't him. "Where are you going?" It's Zayn in this concerned tone that makes Harry turn into a pool beneath his feet of all his overwhelming emotions.

"Why'd you put the cake on the floor?" Harry asks, but doesn't really ask because it comes out as a statement instead while he just stares at the pink cardboard box on the stone ground.

"Harry —" 

Zayn's statement doesn't get far because Harry brashly shoves at Zayn's shoulder. He knows he looks dumb too because it was a push with two hands, but that's not the point. He says what's on his mind because it's better than being aggressive, especially because he knows he's better with his words than physically hurting anybody, "No, you didn't tell me it was at Louis' house. How do I come here and see him and see all the good things he has?"

"I didn't know it was going to be this big. And it doesn't really matter anyways, does it? He's like twenty seven, already born with a stable family." Zayn shrugs, stepping closer for every time Harry inches back.

"That's not what I was talking about." _All the good things_ , Harry thinks. _Good things_ include Zayn and Syl. 

Sure, the success that Harry does not have startles him (at the first impressions since he's been aware about Louis' career and living status), but those things wouldn't mean a thing to Harry if he couldn't share it with somebody he loves. He really doesn't care to compare him and Louis. Zayn lingers in the silence of his turn and Harry wants to expect that he is piecing things together. 

Harry doesn't have all the time in the world, today at least, so he picks up the cake and comments, "I will go see Syl and deliver this cake to her. Then I am leaving.” 

"You said you were good for two hours. You can't go so soon." Zayn pleas, holding onto Harry's wrist from beneath his buttons around it. And Zayn is doing that dumb comforting thing he does to Harry. The one where his thumb is so gentle caressing at Harry's veins, he forgets every doubt he ever considers having towards Zayn. "Stay for Syl, please."

Harry shakes off Zayn's grip and finds Shawn leaning against the pillar with tan brick around it. He brings the cake closer to his chest, commenting, "You walk in the front."

"No. You do it. I don't care what excuse you have, you love this little girl, you would want her to see your face first." Harry pouts in response and shoves at Shawn this time.

The last thing he hears is Zayn saying to Shawn _don't think anyone else will control his stubbornness like we can._

  
♡

"Harry!" Syl's high pitchy, childish voice is booming through this empty space. Her tiny toes patter against the shiny floor while she's racing towards him, soon embracing Harry's legs. He lifts her up, cherishing this as much as possible because at this point, he's unsure of the next time he'll get to hold her like this. There'll be a day she just forgets about him and Louis fills up the spaces in her heart.

Squinting at Syl, he studies her features carefully. He knows where the beauty comes from, but often still can't believe it whenever her light brown eyes just twinkle like chandeliers upon her gazes at Harry when he has something she wants. She and Harry have same distraught curls too, reason why Harry liked to pretend she was his when he'd take her to the park during Zayn's busy hours — now he knows that was a nasty habit. Everything she wears is flashy, fashionable out of her own choice when Zayn would direct her to her dresser. All of her talents, however, come from Zayn — with the art and music. Harry doesn't even remember _her_ , doesn't know what traces come from the person he thought he had to compete with.

But now it's not Syl's mother who stands as the antagonist. Harry might as well thank her. Now it's all Louis, but then again, he can't be competition if Zayn already chose.

"Hi, happy you could make it." The thing about Louis, he's too friendly. Harry can't find a reason to hate him. He provides them with what they need, at least for the two occasions — make that three if the doctor appointments count — that Harry has been alert of.

"Glad to be here." Harry feels repulsive to be lying, but it's Louis so maybe he doesn't really care.

Louis beams and jabs his thumb behind himself, "Tour? Maybe Syl could show you the playroom that I surprised her with today." 

"No, won't be necessary." Harry smiles tightly. Like clothes that don't fit, it's uncomfortable.

Harry averts his attention back to Syl. He crouches down and whispers that he wants to hangout with her for a bit, outside and away from this energy. Zayn looks anxious, probably wanting to follow but Hardy shakes his head and locks his pink with Shawn while he asks him to put away the cake wherever Zayn insists.

Outside where there’s a swing set, Harry feels like it’s fire and he shouldn’t touch, but he remembers he’s a guest here and he’s capable of sitting anywhere he wants. He raises Syl to sit on a toddler-suitable swing but she whines to be with Harry.

 Syl is on his lap when he asks, “Do you like daddy’s new friend?”

“Lou-Lou is good.” _Nicknames_.

“He nice? Takes you places, buys you things?” Harry doesn’t mean to pry things out of her to get some dirt, he simply wants to be assured that she’s in good hands — even though all the answers basically radiate off Louis.

“A little.” 

“Little?” Harry laughs and cuffs his fingers around her ankle and wiggles her pinky toe because with her baby voice, she emphasizes on the second syllabus, _toe_.

It’s not like he’s stepping over any certain borders. He knows what Zayn does and does not like when it comes to his interaction with Syl. But he finds it difficult to turn her around and tell her that he loves her. Instead, he props his chin on her head and just drifts off while looking at guests pass the backyard sliding door.

♡ 

“Hey.” Zayn says, inching closer to him after why was about ten minutes just on the swing with Syl. It’s a little cold but Harry’s arms are still secure around her and her grape-shaded bubble jacket. 

“Sorry, she must have her grandparents to see, I’m sure.” Harry gets up and hands off Syl but Zayn shakes his head and occupies the swing next to Harry.

“Syl go inside and ask Lou to make you a plate. You haven’t eaten yet.” With that said, Harry puts down Syl immediately and watches her trot off.

Harry tries to avoid thinking about how he used to be in that position. He looks to Zayn only to receive nothing. Zayn is just swinging with his heels digging into the grass, eyes glued on the surface like it’s got some spell on him. 

In a way to have anything but this silence, Harry asks, "Are you moving in with him?”

"Never crossed my mind."

"Great, I'm giving you ideas." Harry groans and stops the swing. He crosses his arms from around the two chains as if tugging these constraints tight towards his chest releases some of his stress toxins.

"Your ideas have never failed before." Zayn says. Harry should walk away because Zayn didn’t answer, but it was implied. And it hurts Harry more than anything to know he’s easing into a whole new relationship so soon. They had nearly three years together and despite all that Zayn has said, Harry feels like some appetizer before you get the full course entree. 

Harry now gets up because his chest is aching and if he doesn’t escape now, he might collapse. He thinks his ribs are digging upwards into his heart, each end sharpened with a shiny point to prod relentlessly. 

Zayn being the person he is — always so caring and concern because of certain expressions that play on Harry’s face — he stops right in front of Harry and steps on his toes. He doesn’t touch Harry and it’s likely that he knows what he does to him. Zayn certainly knows that if he were to touch Harry to keep him in place, he’d earn either a passive shove or a pool tears. But he’s just stepping on Harry’s formal shoes like this and Harry’s speechless. Blinking constantly, and anywhere that isn’t towards Zayn’s eyes. Zayn is then hesitant to raise Harry’s chin so they’re now locking their eyes, "There's a first time for everything."

"What?"

"I don't want to live with Louis yet. I told you, we literally have done _zero_. Haven't talked long term. We just go on dates. And sorry to spoil it for you, but soulmates do not naturally just know every little thing about you. Can't tell your favorite hobbies with one look or know what drink is your regular to order right away. They don't connect like puzzle pieces. Louis' makes me a bit incomplete the more I talk about myself, telling him things that you already know." Zayn's confession is surreal. 

This leaves Harry at a crossroad because the world is made up of soulmates. He’s studied books and read articles about the happy endings and love at first impression. He hears experiences from family members and past teachers. Everyone lives like they’re in a globe with snow or glitter, or on top of a three tier wedding cake. Both hold two strong figurines right in the middle with joyous smiles that just tell their own story.

Nothing makes any sense, as he refuses to listen about soulmates being the complete opposite of happiness. Albeit, Zayn is not a liar. He’s never lied to him. 

"I don't — I have got to go." Harry whispers, trying to move but Zayn’s still hot on his toes quite literally.

Zayn moves an inch back but the look on his face remains the same as earlier — a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Why do you try so hard to get rid of me? If you found yours first, I would want to always be around you, and even him. You’d look so happy and I would see that from a different point of view. I want to meet him and I want to tell him all the things you like to write about and tell him what type of jacket you wear for certain weather. I would recommend only your favorite movies and foods and places to waste time. You don’t even feel same good virtue for me. I thought I really had you these last few weeks. I thought you understood that I’m working on all of it. That I want to be happy with my soulmate, and that I still want you around.”

“You’re selfish. You can’t have both of us.” Harry snarls with defense.

“Did you not hear what I just said? Or what I’ve always said. It was our closest thing to a marriage vow. We’re supposed to always — Just go now, yeah? Bet you’ve already found yours and he is much better than me. I’m sure, since you keep breaking our promise.” Zayn shakes his head with a hysterical gasp, “We must of never been serious.”

Harry feels numb but at least he still knows how to move his lips to get out what keeps circling in his mind, “What are you talking about?”

“I saw the bruises under your soulmates mark.” Zayn smirks, it’s cunning and sends a tingle throughout Harry’s body in a negative way because _he knows something_. His thumb presses down on Harry’s bottom lip almost harshly, “Besides, don’t act like I couldn’t taste someone else.”

♡

 

Harry links his arm with Shawn’s arm, who’s oh so casually talking it up with a woman in the corner that Harry’s never seen before. “Now. Let’s go. I need to meet newlywed soulmates.” 

"Why?"

"No questions. I need to leave before Syl sees me." Harry drags Shawn out before anymore questions surface — questions that he doesn’t have answers to.

The car ride is silent with nothing but Shawn humming a tune. It’s comfort while Harry recollects the last few minutes. He would rather ignore every little significant statement that keeps swirling in his mind. His head is a whirlpool of nonstop decisions, where he doesn’t know who to choose. What to choose for the matter — someone he already loves or someone he’s meant to be with. Whether soulmates are the best things in life, or not, he’ll discover that when he interviews the wedding soulmates.

 

♡

 

The wedding consists of two shades. It’s gold and an azure blue, reminding him of the beach. Specifically reminding him of how much he and Zayn really went out  to the beach — sparklingly grains of sand with the sun glistening on minerals and the water. Harry being a new Californian meant he only held stereotypical thoughts, like how it never rains and there are beaches in every corner. Zayn enlightened him and never belittled Harry’s small knowledge about his new state. They often went to the beach, as it was sort of their thing to unwind and engage in old memories. And as for when it rained, Harry used to collect a jar of it and water his mum’s plants on days where the sun shined too brightly. 

Harry’s feeling gloomy, he could use the beach or the rain. Though seeing a sea of people in different textures looking their best, it makes his mood exchange to something more endeared than perplexed.

“So where’s the bride and groom?” Harry asks, eyes wandering as he’s on his tippy toes looking for a mob in this ant farm. They must be loved and really show their love, because there's tons of people attending. Harry's very thrilled to meet them.

Shawn totally kills his mood however, “They’ve already done their vows and everything if that’s what you’re asking. We’re just here for the party." 

Harry gasps, poking at Shawn’s sides in between sentences, “I wanted to feel their love in their words. I wanted to see him slip her ring on! You made me miss those parts?”

“You wanted to see _Zayn_.” Shawn retorts in response.

“I wanted to see Zayn’s daughter. Now show me where the couple is.” Harry exaggeratedly yawns. He quickly manages to shake off his previous vexed appearance and avert into a happy, grinning Harry Styles who loves love.

Shawn instructs Harry to wait for him. He doesn’t want Harry wandering off with guests he doesn’t know. At least for Shawn, he’s met up with the groom and bride to confirm business since he is their photographer after all. Harry only pays attention to the part where he’s allowed to eat at least after he meets Ben and Meredith — as known as, the happy soulmates couple that gets to be the first soulmate newlyweds that Harry is exposed to.

 

♡

 

They find the spotlight couple of the night within ten minutes. Shawn is instructed to set up his equipment by the entrance, which is also adjacent to the catered food. Because Harry just had to be Shawn's guest, it also means he's being ordered to assist him without complaints. He does't know what he's doing but he finds himself being successful when the light fixtures are standing in a ring around this flowery arch and shrubby backdrop.

Harry is unsure of the right moment to ask them, considering they're technically hired to do a task an aren't really on the guest invitation. 

But there's something whirling around in his system, assuring him that he doesn't need to have a conversation with soulmates to understand what he wants. Because he knows enough, he doesn't need to get into every little detail about meeting arrangements or that certain spark. 

Harry thinks _all_ will happen when it does and he's mostly prepared for it. Just not yet.

 

♡

 

Dozens of couples, and non couples, leave Shawn's photoshoot set up with either photo strips or business cards. Though, most of the guests were wasted, just expecting to have the newly weds send it as an attachment via email. That was the plan anyways, so Harry is thankful that most appear with bright smiles and arrogant laughs, quickly feeing the scene right after the flash goes off. Seeing Shawn dedicate his effort and time into his art just does something for Harry. All he did was stand and hand requested props to the guests, but it gave him plenty of chances to avert his attention to the man behind the camera.

As assumed, they don't get any guest treatment, besides enjoying the music and getting endless plates for dinner. They're on a full time shift only getting tiny breaks here and there, but when Shawn is certain that there won't be too many people taking photos during this interval of the wedding -- because the bride and groom are tending to their first dance -- Shawn insits that Harry dances with him, too. It's a crisp, cool air in the early evening as the sun is decently shiny but Harry warms himself up with the body heat of Shawn pressing against him. Harry steps on Shawn's toes maybe once or twice.

  

♡ 

 

Harry takes Shawn’s hands in his. “As you know, I’ve been distant. I wanted for us to stop because I thought that Zayn and I were patching things up. He wasn’t sleeping with his soulmate so I didn’t want to keep this up. It feels unfaithful even if he isn’t mine. For suck sake, we’ve never even really broken up. Anyways, we don’t have to stop this anymore. I don’t care. 

“You were about to put an end to our platonic bed sharing?” Shawn gasps. 

“More like put it on hold. But ignore it all. If it’s alright, I really need you right now.” Harry raises his hand to comb through Shawn’s hair with his fingertips, being sure to tug on the little hairs above his neck because he’s picked up on that — knowing that it eases Shawn, and if it counts right now, turns him on a bit, too.

Shawn leans in, resting his head above Harry’s as he chuckles softly, “Right. I was about to hit up Niall soon.”

“Shawn.” Harry says flat and stern.

“Kidding. Kiss me now.” Shawn nearly topples in Harry when surging forward to mold their lips together. That action alone makes Harry smirk into their kiss because he definitely feels Shawn’s greed and anxiousness towards him.

Harry feels wanted and that’s all he really needs right now, just as how he felt the first time he and Shawn had initiated this. Their kiss deepens when Harry pours his emotions into the kiss just as much as Shawn. He accepts when Shawn slips his tongue in, already licks the roof of Harry’s mouth. It makes Harry laugh, he can’t help but just laugh. Though, right now doesn’t seem like the time for humor. 

Furthering, Harry tugs aggresively at Shawn's collar, pulling him so that Harry's lips already begin to nip at Shawn's jaw. It feels like every nice adjective possible. To have someone that'll give him all that he wants at any given moment, it just feels right.

Seconds refuse to go to waste because Shawn straddles his lap whilst grinding down on him and even unbuttoning his shirt hastily. Everything naturally works all at once and Harry thinks he'll need a paper bag because he's feeling breathless with all of this sensual multitasking. It is until Shawn pauses with a laugh, that Harry gets a little more anxious (but for a way off reason than expected), “You’re — you’ve got the same font as me. Same initials as my name. That’s funny.”

“How so?” Harry says, sitting up to scoot back and resting his back against the headboard. 

“Of all the fonts, were roommates with the same ones.” Shawn chuckles, proceeding to their intimate actions by combing through Harry's hair with his fingers and pulling him up for a kiss. 

Harry responds by kissing back but can't exactly shake off the conversation. He pushes Shawn's chest, not harsh but enough to get Shawn to retract with a concerned face. Harry strokes Shawn's arm gently before asking, “Where is yours, Shawn?” 

“My ankle.” Shawn rolls off Harry's lap and raises his knee to his chest and fingers at his sock to expose his skin.

When Harry sees it, the ink is awfully neat and direct with it's two letters in the most simplest font he's ever seen. It's everything that isn't Zayn's mark. He's never seen something so... plain. All he knows is, “Shawn. Those are my initials.”

Shawn adjusts his sock and takes Harry's hands in his so that he's laying on top of Shawn. And Shawn's just laughing while Harry is completely vexed and uninterested in what's supposed to come, instead he want's answers. With his pouty, aggressive look, Shawn stops laughing and switches positions so that he's sitting up and running his hands down Harry's body. “Harry, stop playing around. Your initials are HE.”

“Who says?”

“Your email. It’s Harry Edward.”

Harry shakes his head. It's clear as day, like a summer afternoon where he'd attend a park to just lay in a shady place, and it was comfort to him, and he was happy. As of now, he doesn't feel that same mood as he did when the sky was crystal clear. This isn't the way he wanted to find out about his soulmate. There's also denying that Shawn isn't his. He confirms all of these little pieces that should make up the bigger picture, “Edward is my middle name. Styles is my last. Harry Styles. Like your soulmates mark saying HS.”

“Shut up, Harry.” Shawn stands up immediately, almost giving Harry whiplash. He slips his shirt back on and paces back and forth, now making Harry feel a bit nauseous because he's moving too quickly, quicker than Harry can process any of this.

Harry cover's his soulmates tattoo with his fingers and mumbles, “We’ve never fucked in the daylight. Or always did it against things. I never even knew my own mark."

“Do you feel any different?” Shawn says. He stands tall with his shadow hovering over Harry and there's a sense of intimidation and dominancy that makes Harry apprehensive because Shawn is there with this look in his eyes that don't mean well. He can't completely read it but he's certain that Shawn was never a believer in soulmates, so it really doesn't mean well. “Feel like the sparks we should feel? How in love we could be?”

“I want to feel it. I think I do.” Harry admits. Aside from the nerves, and the slight fear, there's something tingling in the pool of his stomach — and it isn't because he needs to get off or anything, but he genuinely feels a comforting warmth circulating through his veins.

Shawn's slipping his feet into his shoes and his voice is aggressive when he turns back to Harry with a scornful expression, “You _think_. That’s why.”

Something forms, little particles draw into one direction and like that, there's a light bulb going of in Harry's mind, “So is it a one sided spell? If you don’t believe in it, it’s automatically dysfunctional? We aren’t soulmates then?”

“I never studied this.” Shawn snaps. "Nor do I want to be your soulmate."

Now that everything seems obvious to grasp, he takes a place in front of Shawn and cups his face in his palms to prevent him from refusing to lock eyes. He whispers, “I want to make you love me. Because I know soulmates are real. It’s true love. You and I are meant to be.”

Harry experiences the same response as he did when he thought Shawn was confessing. Shawn leaves Harry in a large room without answers.

 

♡

 

Once the door slides open just a crack, harry is shoving at it, making his way through the familiar doorframe. He shuts  the door behind him and feels the coolness come into contact with his shoulder blades when he leans back barely an inch. Looking through his lashes, he sees Zayn with wide, sympathetic eyes. Harry release an exasperating sigh, “He doesn’t love me.”

“I’ll never mean it. But whatever floats your boat, I’m sure you want me to tell you that I’m happy you love someone else.” Zayn murmurs, crossing his arms though taking a step back — something that Harry isn’t familiar with.

Harry rolls his eyes, so dramatically that it feels like his eye balls will just roll on the wood floor like loose marbles. He pushes off the door and wanders his sore eyes before directing them back to the only thing that’s ever welcomed him so easily. He would hate to be so honest after their argument, but he needs him. It’s the only person he trusts. The only person who seems to, if not have an answer, knows how to make Harry feel safe with his treacherous thoughts. 

Zayn must notice Harry’s disheveled look and tense shoulders because he leads him into his bedroom and wraps a thick blanket over his shoulders. It takes a little from him, sitting apprehensively on Zayn's bed about to reveal things that’ll hurt both of them to an even further extent. This setting makes him slightly at ease anyways and he manages to confess, “It’s Shawn. He’s my soulmate. And he doesn’t believe in it. So we aren’t feeling any connection. Did you and Louis feel anything when you met?”

There’s not a sound coming from Zayn's end, setting Harry back to the territory of discomfort and shame. He glances at the only person he’s ever really loved, and he’s already looking. A quick sigh escapes Zayn's lips before he’s sitting next to Harry and responding, “I first thought he was handsome.” Harry flinches away but Zayn reaches for his hand and Harry suddenly doesn’t know how to move a single muscle. Zayn goes on, “And when we touched it felt really good like my nerves were telling me something. Was like we were magnets attracting. Then we both found out and it felt right.”

Harry shakes his head, hysterically laughing, “I’ve never felt that when Shawn and I met. Not even after being eighteen.”

Zayn falls back, his back hitting the mattress with Harry’s hand resting on his chest. “I remember mum’s story.”

“Didn’t she have an awful story with your dad?” Harry reminds. Zayn never talked much about his dad when they were together, though he was big on sharing his mother to him and she always shared little facts about soulmates to Harry. Facts that seem so uncertain to Harry now.

“Anne is still my mum. I remember how in love she felt. Or the way she described it.” Zayn corrects, and Harry just feels lethargic. Zayn kisses their intertwined fingers and that makes him even more unsettled. “I want you to feel in love. I hope you find that."

“I was in love.” Harry admits. Zayn’s soft smile drops and Harry never liked seeing that. To reassure him Harry lays alongside Zayn, “With you.”

The smile is back and Zayn leans to his side so that the two of them face each other. Something about the atmosphere shifts to something warmer. Zayn whispers, in the most personal way, “I still am, with you too. But we’ve got our soulmates, Harry. I know he’ll change his mind. Why wouldn’t he want to live with you forever?”

“Because he doesn’t believe in soulmates.” Harry flutters his eyes shut, not wanting to read any lies like how he always can when he asks, “Are you happy? You and Louis? Please, honest.”

Harry feels the bed shift but he doesn’t want to see but Zayn's voice feels closer to him somehow as he responds, “Yeah. He’s been spending lots of time with Syl. He loves her more than he loves me I think.”

Closure is the best solution if Harry decides to fall of Shawn completely, it’ll take sometime but maybe after clearing his mind of Zayn he can fall all at once — like sleeping, and sleep is serene and unwinding. Loving Shawn could be like that, and remain like that because he’s his soulmate. “You mean what you said about him earlier? You’re going to try with him, yeah, but do you think you can love him?” 

“It’s neutral love harry. Almost instinctive. He feels right. But I don’t love him that way yet. I think it’s because I still love you.” Harry’s eyes widen at that response, and when they do adjust to the dim light, all he sees is Zayn.

Zayn is inches above him, with his necklace swinging back and forth near Harry’s chin. He almost doesn’t want to believe what will happen right now, but he already knows the both of them too much because the ball is in the middle of the field, it’s up for anyone. He just doesn’t know who’s going for it first, but no one is clearly backing down.

Harry fails to comprehend what’s taking over him, but he’s the one to lunge forward, pulling Zayn by the neck and kissing him with all his strength. It’s like things are falling into place, like he’s capable of pouring out everything that’s been stowed away inside him for the last two months. There’s this undetermined burning passion pooling in his stomach, and it’s not _that_. But it’s like he can visually see all of this love and lust soaring in his veins. He can’t seem to pull himself away from the kiss, to shove at Zayn and tell him this is wrong. 

If anything, he grabs at Zayn’s waist, hauling him close and on top of him so that he can feel his weight above him with their groins grinding against each other. He lives for being taken over like this, with _him_ above him just pinning at his wrists as they kiss with open mouths, sloppy yet so fittingly. 

Harry kitten licks at Zayn’s lips just to get a tinge if the familiar taste upon his tongue. He doesn’t receive too much of his craving, but gets an even better fulfillment when Zayn parts his lips and practically swallows Harry’s tongue. He tastes like everything he’s been wanting for so long since their kiss that one confessing night didn’t mean too much because it was just one kiss. But here, Harry tastes the concoction of cigarettes and a fruity taste of alcoholic. It makes Harry’s mind hazy, and at ease because he’s underage for those both but feels so good to receive a grip of it all. It’s like he’s being teased and he fucking loves it.

The more he’s deprived, the more needy he gets. Harry brings his hands to Shawn’s hips to grind him down onto aching cock, whimpering out _please, please_ in hopes that Shawn wants to take it further as much as he does. Of course, Zayn was his boyfriend and could read him better than anyone else. He nods and slides off of Harry, raising him from beneath his arms to position him properly and comfortingly.

“Is - is Syl here?” Harry asks suddenly when he sees Zayn reaching into his drawer — the bottom one where Harry’s clothes used to be. He isn’t sure if the old articles still remain tucked there. Zayn shakes his head and Harry doesn’t let him answer any further because he doesn’t know where else she would be, along with Zayn’s mum.

Harry strips off his shirt, letting it fall loosely onto the ground while he shimmies off his pants. He giggles for a mere moment because Zayn used to tug at his ankles until he fell down because he never liked Harry standing on his bed — cautionary issues and because he never trusted Harry’s feet to be sanitary. But right now, Zayn doesn’t make a move for horseplay. He holds both of Harry’s arms so that Harry is gradually inching down and laying flat on the bed. Then there, Zayn removes the pool of his pants around his ankles.

“Don’t do anything. I’ve got you, okay?” Zayn whispers, planting one kiss to either sides of Harry’s inner thighs. His hands rake up and down in the most rejuvenating way, he feels like he’s aging backwards with just Zayn’s hands. From the way he caresses to the feeling of electricity roaming with every touch — Harry just feels good with the familiarity.

Harry bats his eyes lashes before letting his eyes absorb the darkness of them shut. He doesn’t want to see Zayn despite knowing how much he really needs to see him. The invisibility doesn’t last forever because his eyes flicker open the second hands aren't roaming his thighs. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yes, you’ve got me.” Harry whispers in response, feeling his own reply go straight to his cock. 

Darting his eyes in the presence of Zayn, he takes either sides of his face into his palms. His thumbs caress at his cheeks, letting his fingers feel the toughness of his scruff, yet feeling how baby soft his skin also really is. Taking in every feature, he sighs contently because he’s sure this is all he wants right now. His boyfriend — _boyfriend for the night_ , he’ll imagine — just glimmers above him with warm eyes and a coy smile. Every little attribution of Zayn’s face just makes up who he truly loves. It’s his eyes of all things that make him feel like, whatever decisions he makes right now or even at the end of the day, everything will be fine.

So when Zayn presses kisses down his neck, he’s taken back to everything he’s comfortable with. All that he’s ever been unsure of vanishes and it’s just he and Zayn. With Zayn kissing and sucking and licking, it sends a shiver through Harry’s body. 

Everything is always enough, no matter what Zayn does he’ll be fine with anything even at the least of his effort. But right now, he won’t take any open mouth kisses on his skin, he wants more.

“I want you.” Harry admits unabashed, making grabby hands in Zayn’s direction.

“I promise you’ll get what you want, babe.” Zayn leans down and kisses Harry but only for a second, then pulling back, making Harry whine in disappointment.

Harry would get up and pull at him on behalf of his eagerness but he knows well enough to obey when they do things like this. So he remains calm and watches his _boyfriend_  hastily undress right in front of his eyes. It’s all still there, the tattoos and little scars and every contour of defined muscles. Harry adores every inch and can’t wait until some of those are put to use.

“How do you want it? Gonna open you up.” Zayn coats his fingers with the drippy substance and Harry’s slightly amused to see the bottle with the same amount, cap sort of loose from using it so much.

“Wanna see you.” Harry admits.

Zayn spreads Harry’s legs even further apart and Harry nearly looses it just because  of his perineum being exposed the coolness. “So eager. I miss that.” Zayn teases, just as he teases Harry’s entrance with his index finger, slipping it in only to the first knuckle and thrusting it in repetitively.

“Miss you.” Harry whines out when a second stick digit slips in smoothly. He grinds down onto it, but to his dismay, Zayn’s unbothered hand holds Harry’s body down with one open hand against his stomach.

Harry shuts his eyes and lets everything ease into the moment. He grips the sheets against him whilst feeling himself getting opened up. He’s anxious to just get it over with already, but everything inside him is also telling him that this is the last time he’ll do such a thing with Zayn anymore. That’s until his hole puckers from the sudden emptiness and he hears the sounds of a wrapper tear. He shoots his eyes open, again, and sits up, stopping Zayn from slipping on the latex. “Please, don’t.”

“No?” Zayn asks concerned, hesitantly dropping the condom.

Harry reaches for his hand and guides it to his cock. He brushes his curls away from his face and sighs, “Just get in me. I’m about to seriously beg right now.”

“Beg then.” Zayn smirks. 

 _This can’t be happening right now_ , Harry thinks. But he’s so needy, he can’t come to terms with anything else. Besides, Zayn would never judge or ridicule him for this. He’ll do whatever it takes to get wha he wants. “Please, I need you.” Harry moans, sultry — exaggerated in a way, in intentions to cajole Louis.

“Need what?” _He’s pushing it._

“Need your cock, babe. Need to come with you in me.” Harry thrusts forward, inching down to fist his cock but Zayn’s quick to force it away.

Zayn chuckles in response and thumbs at Harry’s nipples. Pinching them and grinning when Harry makes a high pitched whine, different beyond compare to his day to day voice. “Mhm, only because you asked so nicely. And you look so good, too.”

“Shut up.” Harry growls tiresomely.

Zayn cups his ear, inching closer to Harry but doing nothing that signals he’ll be getting inside Harry anytime soon. He even furrows his eyebrows and clears his throat, “What? You want me to wank myself on your face and go to bed?”

“Oh my god. Fuck me already.” Harry shouts immediately, emitting a huff sound that follows.

Zayn dribbles a little lube against Harry’s entrance before lining up. There’s a glint of hesitancy that Harry catches, which causes him to eagerly nod. With approval, Zayn inches in with a groan because Harry knows he’s tight — it’s been less than a month since he’s been so full. Zayn rests his hands on Harry’s hips, thumbs already digging into Harry’s meat as he works his hips in a patient, gradual manner.

“You can move you know? You were never treated me like I was fragile.” Harry whispers.

“Babe.” Zayn sighs, no longer moving. He leans down, nibbling at Harry’s bottom lip before extensively planting one on him. 

Zayn kisses him to a full degree, nearly sucking the life out of him — technically sucking on his lips so hard that Harry’s sure they’ll bruise with all the blood running into the plumpness of his lips. His breath quickens and he feels like it’s running away from him with no way of him reaching for it. He has to push away before he becomes even more breathless. He’s panting beneath louis, more dazzled by the kiss than anything else. “What was that?” Harry says in more a ton of disbelief, and feels like he sees dripping, glittery magic.

“You really felt like that?” Zayn runs his fingertips down Harry’s chest, beginning to accelerate his thrust pace but still remaining moderately.

“What?” Harry asks, perplexed with the question, and wondering why Zayn is going so, so slow. 

“That I used you or something? I never meant to make you feel any less than I was when we had sex. Were you afraid?” Zayn nearly pulls out but Harry lunges forward and pulls him close by the shoulders and hooks his ankles together so that he locks Zayn in place with his knees.

Harry releases a content sigh because it’s nothing major. He feels relieved to know that Zayn cares, did care, too. He confirms his side of truth with a timorous smile, “No, I meant that you never hesitated to be rough. I want it. You know I can handle it, is what I meant.”

“Can you?” Zayn inquires with a sudden rough thrust that causes Harry to bang his head against the headboard.

“Try me.” Harry smirks.

And like that it takes some adjusting but Zayn finally begins working his hips. Not even minutes in, Harry thinks he’s already on the edge. He palms the sheets, feeling for a steady grip for what’s about to come. And all at once, Zayn’s hand reaches for him while bottoming out hesitantly. He’s in a comfort state of mind with their intertwined hands, fluttering his eyes shut and unwinding with the way observingly Zayn thrusts into him.

There’s a gentle approach to this, different compared to the plenty of other interactions. Harry thinks it’s on behalf of what he shared minutes ago. His palms are sweaty, making it easier to loosen his grip with Zayn and and get his hand onto Louis shoulder and raking down it. “I told you I’m fine.”

The couple exchanges a glance just before Zayn’s hands stroke Harry’s sides — his destination being Harry’s thighs. He spreads them further apart and rolls his body, almost like a wave. Along with Harry’s sudden squeal from the tantalizing thrust, he takes it as a welcoming to wrap his legs around him tighter, cuffing his ankles together so he braces him.

Zayn buries his face in between the junction of Harry’s neck and jaw, sucking a bruise into his milky flesh. He no longer holds back, fucking into Harry in a way that seems so harsh, yet fitting for Harry. There’s this bubbly warmth swirling in his belly like fuzzy champagne, and just when he thinks this is enough — everything’s perfect wrapped with his lover and his cock buried deep into him — Zayn finds _it_. 

“Fuck, fuck. Yes, there, babe.” Harry cries out in an whiny, ear piecing tone. The surge of pleasure makes Harry’s whole body feel like weak, yet capable of anything. He’s laying languid and crumbly, arms draping over Zayn’s shoulder as his legs quiver with every movement Zayn does. He feels so malleable; would probably let Zayn do anything else he wants to him. It makes him feel almost invincible. Thinking about his own tightness wrapped around Zayn’s throbbing length just gets to him. He wish he were able to lunge forward and see, but Zayn’s weight crushes him in the best way possible.

“Can I? Close, I’m —“ Harry whines out, feeling like the most desperate he’s ever been in a while. It’s because he hasn’t need to worry about what _they_  (he and Shawn) do, but on the contrary in between the sheets they (he and Shawn) share, he has Zayn and all he cares about is making sure Zayn gets what he deserves before he could.

Zayn only smirks, Harry can almost hear it in the way the side of his lips perk up against his teeth. “No, no you aren’t. Can’t tell me you’ve fucked around with Shawn a little here and there, and already forgot how we work.”

“No. I haven’t. I just really need it.” Harry admits, all truth. And _how could I ever forget?_

“Yeah?” Zayn croons, snapping his hips forward, making Harry’s body shake beneath him. He raises his chin up, just enough to see Harry’s face, kissing at his pouty lips. 

“Please.” Harry’s cuffed ankles loosen, palming and pinching at Zayn’s chest in hopes that Zayn’ll flip him over into his stomach because that’s how Harry comes best — the quickest, and hardest.

“I love you too much sometimes.” Zayn curses, slipping out of Harry and getting in between his legs. He taps at his knees and Zayn opens it like his touch was the key. “Gonna eat you till you come, then you’ll make me come. Cause I miss this too much.”

Harry’s eyes widen, not expecting the gesture so he shakes his head vigorously, “Yes. I’d do anything for you.”

“Dangerous to say that, baby.” Zayn whispers while putting a hand on Harry’s hip and flipping him over. 

Zayn caresses Harry’s smooth skin from his spine, down to either globes of Harry’s ass befoefore spreading them. Harry’s face is buried into the mattress, his own hot breath feeling like he’s suffocating himself. 

When Zayn’s tongue darts into him, he involuntary flinches, unfamiliar with the sudden intrusion because he’s prodding and licking and swiveling — everything in between, even adding his fingers and scissoring then.

Harry grinds back against Zayn’s tongue, feeling an extreme amount of arousal and euphoria. Along with his body dipping downwards with his ass high in the air just under the rough grip of Zayn’s hands, his toes curl, resembling the handles of umbrellas — or smiles. Harry simpers at that, all fucked out and mixed with his lips parting. He comes untouched on the sheets beneath him with a shout repetitive shout of his _boyfriend’s_ name.

Zayn follows in pursuit, penetrating just the tip of his cock and fucking his fist until he releases in Harry’s clenched hole. He mumbles something about how good this is, but harry doesn’t pay any mind because he’s still coming down his high, letting his body be used to get Zayn off the same climax.

Harry is quick to retreat, lunging forward and off his knees. He surges like something hot hits his skin. He gathers his clothes, anxious and quick to get his arms and legs through the holes in his clothing. “I need to go study. Need to see how to make him love me. Because you shouldn’t. You should truly love Louis. And Shawn, he’s supposed to love me.”

“Harry. Let me help. Can I help you? We can do it together.” Zayn pleas, holding tight onto Harry’s hand. There's a look on his face, the one Harry is always capable of reading when Zayn's in situations that he can't fend for himself. Being fearful of Syl in a busy environment or dealing with public speaking. His expression just shouts nerve wrecking and apprehensive. 

Evident, so obvious to Harry, he doesn't want any of this to be true and represent his actual feelings. But he's got some of what he wanted and he thinks now is better than ever to burn the bridge behind him. “It’s too late. You found the love of your life, causing me to seek affection from my roommate. Who doesn’t believe in soulmate marks. I think you’d just get in the way.”

“If I could choose you Harry, I would.” Zayn's voice cracks, like Harry can visibly see this _bridge_ crumpling, breaking all at once because of the flames.

Harry clears his throat, hiding away any sign that signals he is affected by any of this, “I believe in a thing called soulmates. I am certain you’re being untrue to your chosen lover and that’s infidelity. I won’t tolerate that anymore. I’m sorry but I can’t love you because in my rulebook, Shawn is my soulmate and I know deep down, I love him.”

“Tell me.” Zayn's fingers tighten around Harry's wrist. It doesn't hurt. No physical pain can match the pain he feels when Zayn pulls him close, so close that Harry casts his attention directly into Zayn's eyes that have a faint glow of blurriness, and his lips — his barely press against Harry's when he practically begs, “One last time. You’ve got to. Please.”

“I don’t love you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this November 3rd though only wrote within seven days and I am very amused with my own writing process. Part two shouldn't take too long. But there's also a separate sequel that I already planned.


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